Russian Expectations
by Emerald-Leaves
Summary: Russia had to meet America's standards, now America must meet Russia's expectations. Sequel to "American Standards". RussiaxAmerica. Warnings: Human names used, genderbending, M.
1. Chapter 1: Make You Mine

**Chapter One: Make You Mine**

Sitting across from his recently dubbed "girlfriend," Russia watched her as she stuffed her face with a hamburger that would have surely given anyone else in the world a heart attack the moment the grease touched their tongue. There was so much beef that it was easily enough the stop the heart, but if that didn't do it, then the mayonnaise, mustard, cheese, bacon, onions, and whatever else she had crammed in between the now seemingly flimsy buns would certainly do the trick. Now Russia wasn't one to shy away from food, after as many famines he'd had and general heartache he'd had to endure he never refused a meal, but what he _could _object to was the manners he was witnessing across from him. It wasn't that America's manners when eating were too different than his own, but for God's sake, did the girl _have _to try stuffing the _entire _thing in her mouth in one go?

"_Kalinka_… that is too big for you," he shook his head tiredly. "Take smaller bites."

The girl across from him paused in her monumental task of trying to stuff the burger in her mouth again, before rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. "Smaller bites are for pussies," she said simply— or at least that's what he thought she said as there was so much food in her mouth at the moment, he couldn't make the words out for sure— before cramming the burger in once more. She took too large of bite, however, and was forced to chew with her mouth open so she wouldn't have to spit it out for fear of chocking.

Sighing, Ivan went back to eating his own lunch, trying to ignore America for the time being. She really was such an interesting person to get to know now. True, she had been interesting before, always keeping him on his toes, but she was more interesting now that she was no longer hostile…well, not as much. He had gotten to know that part of her very well, but her happier, friendly side was much nicer and less stressful to have to work with, while still keeping him on his toes. No matter her behavior, Amelia was always fascinating, even when she wasn't trying to be, and that's why Ivan loved her.

But the question of love came once more to the forefront of the Russian's mind, as it tended to do the more he spent time with America. He had not told her that he loved her, nor had she told him that she loved him, but that was fine with Ivan, he didn't necessarily need to hear it. Seeing her happy and trying to make him happy was enough…Wasn't it?

Ivan liked his new relationship with Amelia very much! It was one of the nicest things to have happened to him in quite some time, but thinking back to his previous "relationships" with women, the Russian couldn't help but think that there was something…missing. In the past, to satisfy their nation, Tsars or even the dictators, would bring a young woman to Russia every so often so that he could ease certain human urges. It was a common practice for nations as it was important that the human side of the country be regulated and appeased every now and then to maintain balance within a personification, and Russia had been no different. His leaders had always chosen for him humans as they never particularly wanted to get involved with other nations in _that _way. Russia had always been more of the conqueror, and he was not sure he could have joined together with someone else like Austria and Hungary had, even if Austria had been the one with the real power in the more one-sided relationship.

There had always been various reasons why his leaders had never wanted to allow him to be with other nations in that way, but in the end, it didn't really matter. That wasn't the point. The point was the times he had spent in the company of other women, it had been…different than it was with America. In fact, every couple Russia had seen in person or in the movies acted differently than America and himself. Amelia never held his hand except when she was tugging him along because she was impatient to get somewhere, she did not allow for him to put his arm around her when watching television or a movie as they sat nearly on opposite sides of the couch, and she especially did not allow him to put his hand on her knee! After their first date, she had never initiated another kiss, nor did she allow him to the few times he had gained the courage to do so. There was a distinct, cold lack of physical contact between the two now, other than the playful swat at the chest or head, but that was it.

Before Russia could stop himself, he found his mind wondering: _Is this it_? Was this all there was to a true relationship, and not just the flings he'd had before? But no, that couldn't be. Humans displayed so much more than this! It was _common _for couples to hold hands, to hug, to kiss, to do _more_. The more Ivan thought about all of the wonderful things he could do with Amelia and _wasn't_, the more upset he became, and angry.

What was going on here? Was there something wrong with him that America just didn't believe he was worth doing more with? Was she leading him on because she was bored and needed something to do to entertain herself? Was this her revenge against him for being part of that bet? But no, Amelia's feeling for him were honest and sincere, he could tell if she was lying. But what was it if not her being cruel?

Amelia was young and innocent—in this aspect— perhaps she was still just a little shy after the big change in relationship. Peering up just in time to see a huge glop of ketchup and mustard plop down on the blonde's shirt, and listening to her whine of complaint only confirmed with Slav's theory. America was just as new to the actual dating thing as he was, and since she was certainly inexperienced with any sort of sexual play at all, it was only logical that she should behave as she was. Maybe she just needed a little push to help her along?

"Are you not hungry or something?"

Blinking out of his reserve, Ivan realized he'd been staring at Amelia and neglecting his food in the process. He smiled automatically, before shaking his head. "No, I am."

"Then hurry up and eat!" the blonde demanded. "We gotta get going before the movie rental place closes! I still wanna get some of those snacks they sell there too, just in case we get hungry later on." Her bright smile was just enough to soothe Russia's nerves at her demanding him about.

Rolling his eyes, Ivan crammed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth before crumpling up the paper and throwing it down on the tray along with the rest of the trash. When he looked up, he found Amelia smirking at him evilly, and he knew he wasn't going to like whatever she said next.

"And you were telling _me _to take smaller bites," she snorted. "Damn dude, you just stuffed, like, a whole hamburger in your mouth!"

Standing up with a superior air, Ivan took the tray and walked towards the trashcans. Once he had swallowed down the food and took a sip of coke, he turned back around to stare down his nose at the American. "I am bigger than you. I can do things like that without looking like a chipmunk," he said simply.

Amelia laughed, shaking her head. It was actually very nice not to have to worry about her getting offended as often now as she was beginning to relearn his humor and taking it a lot better than in the past. "Whatever, Big Guy," she snorted. "But come on! Movie store! Unless you wanted another double quarter pounder?"

"No more McDonalds for a while," he groaned. "I need to give my body time to recover from all this grease you Americans call food."

"Whatever!" Amelia cried as they walked out the door of the restaurant. "You totally liked it."

He hummed in reply. "I suppose it wasn't too terrible."

"You ate like six cheeseburgers, you big cow!" she pushed him away playfully. "You liked it. Next time, we're going around southern Kentucky to get you a McGangBanger."

"A what?" Ivan nearly stopped in his tracks, causing the American to laugh. To the Slav's further dismay, she didn't elaborate, and he feared he was going to have to be subjected to the mysterious, awful "McGangBanger," whatever that might be. He hoped it wouldn't kill him.

But all food aside, as they walked to the movie store, Ivan decided that as he watched his little American skipping along just outside arm's reach, that he was going to have to do something about her, and soon. The fact that she was so adorable and sweet and flirtatious and he couldn't smother his affection on her was beginning to drive him nuts. He _needed _her now, and he always got what he wanted in the end. Let her boss him around, play hard to get, because when it was time for their little movie, he was going to make his move. Because that's what America was doing, surely. She was playing innocent and hard to get. She _wanted _him to make a move, to step up, and he most certainly would.

At the movie store, he listened to the girl chatter on and on about nothing at all. It was really amazing how she could do that. No wonder she was good with politics! But like the obedient boyfriend, Ivan spoke only when it seemed he was expected to, and stayed quiet as he smiled at her, even when she loaded his arms up with movies and snacks for their "movie marathon" or whatever she called it. The title of the night changed periodically, so Russia was always left confused.

The workers at the movie store seemed to know America quite well, and smiled brightly and waved at her when she came towards them with all her items. One look at the Slav behind her, though, had the poor humans going pale and shaking in a matter of nanoseconds. But true to her personality, Amelia didn't seem to sense what was going on around her, and instead, smiled on, laughing, as though nothing had happened at all, and her boyfriend wasn't currently employed in scaring the shit out of the poor teenagers working behind the counter.

"Just came to pick up a couple of movies and snacks," she laughed loudly as she unloaded Russia's arms to set the items on the counter. "We're gunna have a movie night!" she proclaimed merrily.

"I s-s-see that," the boy nodded, trying to be brave in the face of the Russian while the rest of his co-workers had scattered like beetles when the lights came on at the sight of the Slav. Their irrational terror was really quite amusing to Ivan as he just couldn't figure out what was so terrifying about himself.

"Yup, me and Komrade Kol over here," she went on cheerfully chattering.

Ivan frowned for just a split second before allowing his smile to sweeten. He leaned forward, laughing inwardly as the clerk jumped back, before placing a hand on his girlfriend's shoulder and gripping it none too gently. "I thought I made it clear you were not to call me that again, _Kalinka_?"

It was truly annoying how well that pout of hers worked against him now, annoying and completely unfair. "But _Russia_," she whined. "You gave _me_ a nickname, why can't I give you one?"

"Because I said so," his grip tightened, causing the blonde to wince slightly, to make his point.

The clerked looked as though he might call the police if he didn't faint first, but luckily Amelia folded. For once. "You're no fun, you know that?" Still pouting, the blonde turned to the boy behind the counter. "You okay, man?" she frowned. "You're lookin' pretty pale."

"F-fine," the clerk nodded quickly, eyes darting to Russia and back to his nation. "D-do ya wanna a bag?"

"Ch'ah!" America nodded happily as she helped stuff the snacks in the bag seeing as the boy's hands shook too much.

Russia watched all this with growing amusement, which in turn, caused the clerk to become more uncomfortable. The whole store looked like it took a sigh of relief once the two nations left the premises, but Amelia didn't seem to notice as she skipped along again, excited for her movies. Ivan hung back a bit and studied his girlfriend as she went on chattering, deciding to admire the view she was giving him from behind. She really was lovely, perfect sun-kissed skin, wheat colored hair, eyes the color of the morning sky, sweet, rounded face…It just didn't seem natural that she was the world's leading Superpower. No one this cute should be able to hold the title.

When they two nations finally reached America's apartment, the girl jumped up the steps with more energy than what she should have had at that time of day, before rummaging through her bag to find her keys. She muttered and mumbled irritably before finally pulling them out with a triumphant, "At last!" Russia watched with mild amusement as the wad of keys was held up so that Amelia could find the one for the house, and marveled as just how many she had. Briefly he wondered if they all had a purpose or if she just liked the way all those keys looked together with all of those horrendous key chains attached.

She pushed open her new door—Ivan _had _been true to his word and gotten her a new door since he did try to mutilate the last—and stepped in with a sigh. "Just throw your crap anywhere, Big Guy," she smiled over at him. "I'm gunna go throw on my comfy pants."

Frowning at the term "crap" Russia didn't comment on it and only nodded before watching his bubbly blonde bounce up the stairs. He set down the movies and the snack food on the coffee table before shrugging off his coat and hanging it up on the coat rack since Amelia hadn't offered to, before looking around the apartment. He'd only been in here a grand total of three times, the first being that nearly disastrous first date and one other time when he'd picked her up a few days ago. Ivan had to admit, it was a nice place, one that he was certain he would have to get used to if he was going to be making his second home here. He wondered what her bedroom looked like…

"You're not the limy bastard."

Turning around, Ivan found himself face to face with America's alien friend Mr. Toddy, or something. Smiling his signature smile at the strange being, the Russian chuckled a bit. "_Nyet_, I am not," he agreed.

"You're that commie bastard." The alien cocked its head to the side as though confused.

Annoyed, Russia smiled on, before reaching out to place his hand on top of the bald head. "I was wondering, Mr. Alien, would your head pop like a balloon or be crushed like a grapefruit if I squeezed it hard enough?"

The alien made a disgruntled sort of noise in which Russia couldn't tell if it was out of pain or annoyance, so he squeezed it harder just to see if he could tell, keeping his smile in place despite the mutterings of "bastard" he heard coming from the creature's direction. Something terrible might have happened, Ivan might have squeezed too hard, the alien might have pulled some strange alien trick, but the two opposing forces were startled when they heard a loud, obnoxious laugh.

Both snapped their heads over to the staircase to find Amelia standing on the bottom step her hands at the side of her face as she gushed affectionately at the sight of her boyfriend and best friend. "HAHAHA! Aww, you two are _too _adorable!" she cried in delight. "Gone not two minutes and you're already besties!"

The alien swatted at Ivan's hand, so the nation released his grip, and before the creature could complain, the Russian spoke up. "_Da_! We are being best friends," he lied quickly, ignoring what he thought was a glare by the alien beside him. "What movie were you wanting to watch first, _Kalinka_?"

Sufficiently distracted away from realizing he had lied, Amelia beamed over at the taller nation before bouncing over to the coffee table to select a film. "I don't know, man, there are just so many good one we brought home!" she cried, and went on rambling as she sat down with her back to the other two inhabitance.

As the girl prattled on and on about the pros and cons of each movie, the Russian and the alien were left staring each other up and down, neither one quite sure what they should be saying to each other now that Amelia was in the room. It was obvious that the creature didn't seem to like him for whatever reason. It made the Slav wonder if the thing would attack him.

"Oh!" America's blonde head suddenly popped up and turned around to stare at her friend and significant other. "Sorry Tony, I forgot to tell you about Ivan," she smiled sheepishly at the alien. "We're cool now, so no need to worry about him."

The alien stared in the blonde's direction for several minutes, it being hard for Russia to know if it was actually looking at her or not, before it walked towards the couch. "Whatever," it shrugged, seeming to lose interest in the hating Russia. "What movie are you gunna watch?"

Ivan watched irritated as the creature slinked over to the couch and plopped down. _Right next_ to Amelia. Was that stupid thing trying to get in his way of finally making a move on Amelia? Probably. How was he going to get rid of it without making the blonde mad?

"Hmm…I was thinking of maybe starting off with _The Help_," the American mused. "It was reallygood and sadly historical in what it _was _like back then, but I thought maybe Ivan would find it interesting if nothing else."

Tony looked over his shoulder at Russia before getting a mysterious glint in his eyes that Ivan did not like at all. "That sounds good. I'm sure fatty will loveit."

"I am not fat!" the Slav snapped, deciding there and then that he did not like America's little alien friend.

"You think so?" Amelia mused contemplatively, completely missing the whole "stand up for your boyfriend" moment that just passed her by. Ivan made mental note to not stand up for her next time someone called _her _fat.

The alien watched him as Russia went and sat down on the other side of the couch with an oddly skeptical look considering his facial features twisted differently than a human's. "Whatever you wanna hear, fatty," it said before scooting closer to America, as though to rub in the fact that it could get so close to her. Ivan _really _didn't like that little thing.

As the girl put in the movie, oblivious to the growing tensions between her extraterrestrial friend and her boyfriend, she turned and smiled at the two once she was done, humming to herself. "Dude, this is gunna get really sad towards the middle, but don't judge! Different times and all…" she trailed off before grabbing a Snickers bar and began chewing on it, completely missing the whole "offer one to your guest" moment that passed her by.

But Ivan didn't comment on her lack of hospitality since he was too busy glaring at the alien who, almost pet-like, was leaning against Amelia, snuggling close. It ticked the Russian off, especially since this was _his _night to make a move and get Amelia all to himself. What was this little thing's problem? Why did it hate him? The Slav briefly wondered how upset America would be if she woke up in the morning and found the creature dead.

The movie, Russia decided, wasn't romantic at all, and was disappointed to find it so. He had been hoping that maybe watching a romance would loosen Amelia up to the possibilities of expanding their relationship to new and exciting levels, but that didn't seem like it was going to happen any time soon. Instead, the poor man was forced to watch a heartfelt story about women in the south before equality laws were enforced all throughout the United States. It was touching, it was inspirational, and it was certainly not to sort of movie that he had been wanting to watch tonight. And of course it would have a happy ending. American movies _always _seemed to have a happy ending, a big triumph in the end.

Towards the middle, when things looked to be going all right for the characters, Russia decided that he needed a drink. Last time he had hidden a bottle of vodka in America's pantry and he deemed it time to get it out. Maybe if he could get her to drink some, it'd loosen her up and he'd be able to carry on with his plans, with or without the alien in the room, it didn't matter much to Ivan. He would getwhat he wanted!

As he turned around, he found the new bane of his existence standing in the doorway watching him curiously. "Oh, _privyet_ Mr. Alien," Ivan smiled coldly at the creature, his purple aura of hatred flaring up around him, as he grabbed a butcher knife that was sitting in the sink that America foolishly hadn't washed and put away yet. "Did you come in here so we could play?" he cocked his head to the side.

Mr. Tony stood still, not blinking—if indeed it _could _blink—before it shrugged one shoulder and shuffled to the fridge and pulled out a pop can. "I like you," it said, taking the Russian completely by surprise. "If you're going to do stuff with America tonight, just don't make too much noise."

And with that, the creature walked out of the room before the Russian could say anything in response. What had _that _been all about? Some sort of test? Oh well, whatever it was, Ivan didn't have time to worry about it, because now the alien was out of the way withoutRussia having to resort to the use of violence, which would make America happy, and now he could have her all to himself.

Smiling cheerfully, the Slav made his way back into the living room to find America leaning forward, elbows on her knees, as she stared at the screen with tears in her eyes. She looked utterly depressed, as though she had known the characters on a deep, personal level and was feeling their pain acutely. It was interesting how attached she could get to characters, like they were really her friends. Perhaps they _were_, her replacement for actual people…

Without a word, he opened the vodka and handed it to her. Not taking her eyes off the screen, the girl took the bottle and kicked back a mouthful without blinking. Ivan was a bit impressed when she apparently felt nothing as the potent liquid slid down her throat, but took back the bottle and followed suit. He wasn't going to break her concentration. Maybe he could get her tipsy without her knowing it? That would be pretty funny, actually. What sort of drunk was she? He hoped it was the touchy feely, happy kind. That would be even _more _fun for what he had in mind.

America didn't notice the evil-esque grin that slipped onto her boyfriend's lips, and so, Russia kept passing the bottle of vodka to her. For once in his life, Ivan allowed someone _else _drink the majority of his beloved vodka. Scarifies had to be made in the name of love, right? After all, if Ivan had his way, she would be paying for it later anyway.

Feeling bolder, knowing the girl was distracted, especially when that one main blondish woman in the movie was listening to the other worker woman talk about her deceased son, Ivan made a move and scooted close to her. Well, close wasn't the right word for it, he pushed himself flush against her, there being no where else she could escape. America stiffened, but the Russian wasn't sure if it was from the heart-wrenching scene or from his gutsy move…he decided to pass it off to the crying women on screen.

Soundlessly, as the large nation handed over the vodka, he decided to put his arm around the back of the couch. Amelia turned and looked at him after that, the first time she had torn her eyes off the screen since putting the DVD in, but Ivan knew how to play the game, and he stared at the TV, not wanting her to feel like something was going on, trying to remain causal. He was a pro, after all.

Apparently not wanting to miss anything else that was happening on screen despite having seen the movie before—at least ten times, if Russia knew the girl—America seemed to force herself to relax, and for once, didn't freak out with the Russian's arm around her…or at least around her on the _couch_. The couch made all the difference really, or it probably did in America's mind. Strange girl.

Knowing he couldn't push anymore, Ivan sat throughout the rest of the movie nicely, basking in the glory of his success in not only sitting pushed up against his girlfriend, but also being able to put his arm around her. Normally, that was not something impressive to anymore else, but considering he had managed to tame _America _into this, it was nothing sort of a miracle. So as he passed the vodka for her to finish up, the large nation prayed that his luck would continue through the rest of the evening. If he was going to have supreme bragging rights for the rest of history in taming this wild cowgirl, he wanted to tame her _all _the way.

When the credits began rolling after a satisfying happy, hopeful ending, America was still a bit stiff, but she was smiling, wiping the tears from her eyes. Ivan decided to wipe them away for her, causing the blonde to laugh a bit uneasily, like she was trying to cover up the fact that she was about to have a major freak out. "Haha! W-wasn't that a good movie?" she pulled back her face a little, out of Ivan's hands.

Undeterred, Ivan found he had gotten verydesirous of Amelia as she stared at him with those pretty, big eyes of hers, and he remembered just how tiredhe was of waiting around for their relationship to grow. He wanted her and he wanted her now. It was time for her to stop running and playing hard to get. So, hoping that his vodka did the trick, the Russian began rubbing his girlfriend's arms lovingly, marveling at how smooth her skin still was, before humming lightly. "_Da_. _Very _good."

"Haha!" America twittered uneasily, still trying to pull away, but only then realizing that she had nowhere to go.

Using the arm he had around her, Ivan put his hand on Amelia's other shoulder, pulling her back closer to him, smiling calmly all the while. It felt good to have her this near him. It filled a void within him that he hadn't known he'd had. For one of the few times in his life, Ivan felt a wave of bliss settle over him, feeling simply _happy_, a truly rare occurrence.

Using his other hand to tilt up her chin, Ivan smiled warmly down at the girl that had captured his heart so unexpectedly. Leaning down, still pushing her closer to him, Russia decided it was his turn to kiss the girl, kiss _her _for the first time, erase that tainted kiss Japan had given her months before. And for a moment, America went completely still, frozen when his lips touched hers. But a second later, Amelia's whole body seemed to shatter from the tension and she became slack in his arms.

It was as though he had won the world. The kiss wasn't anything too spectacular to be sure, America still being a virgin in every sense of the word, from her lips to her toes, but it was certainly a good start. And so, wanting to help the girl improve her skills, as well as increasing his own pleasurably, Ivan did the only logical thing. He pushed her back into the couch roughly, looming over her, straddling her while giving her a wicked grin.

The next thing Ivan knew was that he was lying on the floor flat on his back with an aching jaw and aching head. "OUCH!" he cried, grabbing his head from where it had hit the ground.

Suddenly America was standing over him, face scarlet, looking absolutely furious. "What the hell were you doing?" she screamed, shaking.

Scowling right back, the Slav sat up on his elbows, wishing he had his pipe handy on him. "What the hell were _you _doing? That hurt," he admitted.

"_ME?_" the girl shrieked. "You were trying to rape me!"

"What?" Ivan's mouth literally fell open in shock. "I was not!" ...not really. It wasn't rape if they wanted it, right? And Ivan had wanted Amelia to want it.

"You were too, you stupid psychopath!" America looked nearly hysterical.

Sitting up completely, Ivan was distressed to watch as the blonde fearfully jumped back, as though afraid that he was going to harm her. It hurt. He had honestly thought she knew he wouldn't do anything like that to her.

"I was trying to be romantic!" he stood up, glaring in frustration and insult.

"What?" the girl huffed indignantly. "You call grabbing me around the back of the neck and then pushing me into the couch and _sitting_ on me romantic?"

Blushing, Russia growled. "Some would!" he defended heatedly. "I was being…unpredictable and spontaneous. Americans like that."

"Well I didn't!" the blonde cried. "We were having such a nice time, but then you had to ruin it by getting drunk and trying to get me drunk and trying to slobber all over me!"

"I wasn't trying to get you drunk!" A lie. "I was…" ugh, English was such a stupidly complicated language, and talking about feelings was even worse. "I was just trying to be romantic," he repeated lamely, not knowing what else to say. "You were enjoying it until you irrationally freaked out."

"'_Irrationally'_?" That had probably been the wrong word choice when dealing with a woman, but it was, in all honesty, the best word to describe her actions from his point of view. "So not wanting to get raped is irrational nowadays?"

"I was _not _trying to rape you!" Ivan lost his temper at last, as he screamed in the girl's face. "I just wanted to be closer to you! Ever since we decided to be together you've been nothing but demanding and selfish and _cold_. Every attempt I've made to be romantic you've ended. Why?" the question slipped out before he could stop it. "Why don't you want to do more? Are you playing with me?"

"What?" Amelia's eyes widened in horror. "N-no! That's not—!"

"Is there something wrong with me, then?"

The blonde shook her head vigorously. "No! No, it's nothing like that!"

"Then what?" Russia demanded frostily. "Why do you do this? Why can't you love me?"

"It's not you, it's me!"

The two former rivals stood staring at each other for a moment in a tense silence, America nearly in tears while Russia panted in fury. "What?" he finally snapped, furious. "What kind of excuse is that?"

Amelia blushed, looking upset, but Ivan hardened his heart against it. "An honest one," she muttered miserably, before turning pleading eyes upon the man across from her. "Please Ivan, I just…I just can't do that kind of stuff with you."

"Why not?" he snapped, knowing he was being a bit unfair, but by God, she had been unfair to him first.

"Because!" America cried. "Can you just image it? 'America: Number One Slut in the World!' 'America's Hot, Steamy Love Affair: What _will_ England Think?' 'Is America Sporting a Babybump? More Details Inside!'"

Russia stared at her blankly.

"Don't you get it?" Amelia demanded frustratedly. "Everyone thinks I'm unhealthy, everyone thinks I party too much, everyone thinks I meddle all the time, I'm too violent, I'm too selfish! I'm fat, I'm loud, I'm oblivious, I'm evil, I'm racist, I'm negligent, I'm stupid, I'm inconsiderate! I don't know about anyone other than myself, my culture is offensive, I'm overbearing and domineering…Don't you get it? The _last _thing I want to be labeled as is some sort of whore! I'm defective in every other way possible, why can't I, for just this one thing, be okay? Be good?"

Not for the first time, Ivan was stunned into silence by America's outburst. Not for the first time, he found himself sympathizing with the Superpower that, on a national level, he didn't care for much. Yet, even nationalistically, Russia found that he had some pity for the girl seeing as he knew the feelings all too clearly. But even though he found some compassion, that didn't make up for the fact that he was still angry, angry and hurt that she hadn't expressed this to him when they werein a relationship. Shouldn't he know the feelings of his own girlfriend?

Taking a deep breath, Ivan ran a hand through his hair, wishing that for once in his life, things could just be simple. Why did everything he want, as simple as most of it was, have to mix into some toxic, putrid concoction of events? "Amelia," his voice was a lot calmer than he felt, "I can…sympathize with you, but you know that _all _nations have these similar problems? It's not just you." The girl looked panicked before her eyes turned stormy and furious.

"You think I'm being over dramatic?" she scowled darkly. "I'm not!" she childishly stomped her foot on the floor, leaving the Russian unimpressed. "You have _no _idea the kind of shit I have to put up with! I'm not going to just let you make me your whore!"

"I don't _want _you as my whore!" Ivan bellowed. He literally shook the house with his booming voice, his temper completely lost, a real rarity. "I _want _you as my lover! It is _common_ for people in relationships to come together and become intimate, it is _not _rape when a man kisses his significant other." He crossed his arms severely, so as not to lash out at her to beat sense into that abnormally thick skull of hers.

Amelia, for her part, turned bright red, whether from embarrassment, anger, frustration, or all three it was really hard to tell. "That's not what I…I mean, you _did _come on to me without asking…but…I…UGH!" She stomped her foot again, looking near tears and for something to throw most likely. "Why couldn't you have just left well enough alone?" she cried, a tear slipping past her guard.

Frowning, it was natural for Russia to instantly become distrustful of the nation in front of him. Even with their own personal relationship, the national side of them still didn't get along all that well. But pushing past the national distrust, _Ivan _found he was actually feeling distrustful and hurt. "What are you saying?" his voice dropped low into a deadly murmur. "Are you playing with me?"

"I already told you no!" the girl screamed, looking completely helpless, a look that did not suit her.

"Then tell me what's wrong with _you_," the Slav demanded ruthlessly, resolved not to be swayed by her tears despite the hurt he felt having caused them.

Amelia was shaking slightly as she looked around wildly, as though for a way out. She bit her bottom lip apprehensively, fidgeting with her arms. She looked as though she would rather gnaw off her own leg than admit to anything. Ivan began losing hope of actually getting anything useful out of the blonde, before America's whole frame slumped in defeat and her head hung low, touching her chest. "It's just…I'm afraid, okay," her whole face went scarlet.

Duality was just something Russia was used to, but at the moment, it was nearly overwhelming inside him. There was a part of him that wanted to laugh, perhaps tease the girl for such a stupid fear, but there was also a part of him that really felt bad for the girl. So, despite the fact that he wanted to cackle, perhaps dance a little at the relief he felt that whatever was going on inside the American's head didn't really have anything to do with _him_, Ivan just huffed out a breath, trying to mask his amusement, before giving her a kind look. "Why are you scared, _Kalinka_?" he tried to keep his voice quiet and unthreatening, lest he set her off again.

"Because!" America scowled nastily, bitterly. "I spent the first couple hundred years of my life being told that young women didn't go off with men because it was _bad_! For a long time I wasn't even allowed to _look _at young man that wasn't my brother! England told me _everything _that men do!"

"Everything?" Ivan failed to keep the amusement out of his voice now, even though he still thought it was sad about how limited her knowledge of romance was.

"Yes! Everything!" she growled angrily, crossing her own arms. "He told me all about worthless young men seducing young women so that they can have their way with them before leaving the girl alone with a broken heart, ruined with little prospects of ever getting married!"

Ivan finally did burst out laughing. He couldn't help it really. What had England done? Just read straight out of Jane Austen to the girl? Truly the Russian wasn't sure if he should be frustrated with the former empire for warping America's impressionable mind into fearing relationships or thank him for preserving the girl so that _he_, Ivan, would be her first—and only if he had his way. When he was able to calm down, the Slav found himself being glared at by a livid American. "I'm sorry," he said insincerely. "But do you realize how…medievalyou sound?" He continued to chuckle at her incredulous expression.

"I'm _not _medieval!" she screamed. "I wasn't even born then, oldman."

Unfazed by the weak insult, Russia just shook his head. "For being the supposed 'youthful' and 'progressive' nation, you're ideas on so many things are quite archaic. I cannot believe you trusted England when he told you that. He must have really scared you."

"Why would he lie about that?" Amelia demanded, blushing horribly again. "Besides, everyone knows that even though times have changed, men haven't."

"Neither have women," Ivan pointed out patiently. At the blonde's hesitant expression, the Slav decided that it was time to be diplomatic. "Amelia, you might be scared, but really, you have nothing to worry about."

"Yes I do," she mumbled miserably. "I mean, even if I was comfortable with…all this," she looked embarrassed, "that still doesn't change the fact that you're you and I'm me."

Russia frowned. "I assume there is more meaning to that and you're not just trying to be insulting."

"What I meanis that you're Russia and I'm America," the blonde continued, as though she hadn't heard the other at all. "I…I'm not sure we should be opening ourselves up to each other like this. National secrets and all…"

The large nation felt his heart sink and a dull ache came swiftly onto him. "You…want to end our relationship?" No! That couldn't be! They hadn't even done _anything_! No kissing, no hugs, handholding was limited to impatient pulling. This wasn't fair! This wasn't _right_! He had found the only woman that wasn't afraid of him and had _wanted _to be with him, he just couldn't lose her, not yet, not like this.

"No!" Amelia held up her hands quickly. "I mean, yes. Maybe? Ugh!" she held her head in her hands. "I don't know!" she cried helplessly. "I don't _want _to," her eyes bespoke her sincerity. "I mean, I _really _like you, Ivan." At his disbelieving look, she went on quickly. "You can count on it! I wouldn't have agreed to go out with you if I didn't. I've never dated anyone in the past because not only was I scared, but I just didn't want to get involved because I knew I'd have commitment troubles…"

It didn't surprise him, but it still didn't put the Slav at ease. Russia had had the opposite problem, always willing to commit—or rather he'd make _others _commit to him… or maybe they weren't so different after all since Ivan never remained completely steadfast either. Though he felt a little better knowing that she was right, after all the years he'd known her, she had never even seemed interested in another man, never really seemed to have the time, actually.

Frowning in thought, Ivan looked up at the girl across from him, noticing how worried she appeared. "So, what do you want to do?" He decided to be nice and ask her rather than just tell her what she woulddo.

"I don't know," Amelia sighed in defeat, flopping down on the couch wearily. "I really do like you, Ivan," she stressed again. "But…This whole relationship stuff is a lot harder than France always makes it out to be."

"Do you want it?"

"What?" seeing Amelia's head snap up that fast brought the slightest smile to Ivan's serious face.

"Do you want this relationship?" he reiterated.

For a frightening moment, Russia was afraid that the girl was going to tell him to start packing and that they were done. It wouldn't be that surprising, after all. America had guarded her virginity in all things romantic as jealously as a dragon would its hoard, and she could easily break their relationship. She had tried out the much exaggerated dating, found it not so great—seeing as she hadn't let him show her how wonderful it could be—and could easily put it all behind her easily and go back to her old lifestyle. She probably thought of herself like those chased Greek goddesses, Athena and Artemis, ferocious fighters and regal. That's probably the sort of persona she tried to harness when she went out "policing" the world.

"I…I don't want to lose you," the blonde admitted. "I _like _you," she seemed frantic to get that point across. "You and me…well, we make such awesome partners, don't we?" her eyes were pleading. "We really do have so much in common…even if we don't…"

The Slav sat down next to his girl and put his arm around her again, testing the waters. She stiffened, almost pulled out, but froze, seeming to understand the point he was trying to make. A nice blush came across her face. "Partners," he mused, humor lacing his voice, masking the bitterness. "We could be something _more_ you know."

"But…we're nations. We have certain responsibilities."

"But we also have humanity," Ivan pointed out gently, distressed by how much she was fighting him. "We've put aside nationality before, we can continue to do it again. Let me show you how much better this can get."

"No!" Amelia slapped his hand away from her. "I can't. We should—"

Putting his hand back around Amelia's shoulders, Ivan held on to her tightly. "Is the United States of America going to _run away _from a proposition given to her by the Russian Federation?"

The girl turned to her boyfriend and glared, forgetting about the arm around her. _Got you_, the Slav smiled. "The U.S.A never runs."

"Then show me you're not a quitter," Russia challenged. "Let me help you get comfortable, to show you how nice a relationship can be."

America sat a moment, biting her lip, as though thinking it over. Just the prospect of her having to _think it over _disheartened the Russian more than he expected. If she really felt the same way that he felt about her, why then wasn't she taking him up on this offer to stay with him? Why did she have to think anything over? The answer should have been obvious!

"A-All right," she said at last, nodding. "All right. I like you, Ivan. I'd hate to know that we had to end all the fun we've had so far because of me. Just…warn me about what you're doing first, huh? Go slowly?"

Hiding the betrayal he still felt, Ivan nodded, giving the girl a friendly half hug, smiling even through the sadness he felt. "Okay," he stood. "We go slow… I should go now. It's getting late."

"Yeah, okay," Amelia stood up as well, looking incredibly awkward. "Good night, Ivan. See you tomorrow?"

"Of course!"

On his way out and to the hotel he was staying at, Ivan pondered all that he had learned this evening. A part of him was glad that Amelia's actions were not due completely to him, but a lot of it stemming from her own insecurity, it still made him sad. He knew even before he and Amelia officially "hooked up" that it would be some work getting her comfortable with the whole dating thing, but he had not counted on _this _much work. Yet the stubborn part of the man wouldn't let her go, not after all he'd been through to get her!

And so, as he laid in bed that night, Russia plotted on all the ways he could truly win his lady over, and build her up to his dreams and expectations.

* * *

**Author's Note: **A sequel, a sequel! Yes, it has indeed arrived. This first chappie is actually quite long, not sure it will continue to be this long. But we'll have fun watching Russia get America to become more intimate I think. *wink wink*

PLEASE drop me a review! Let me know this isn't crap. Thanks everyone! :)


	2. Chapter 2: Pushkin á la Rock

**Chapter Two: Pushkin á la Rock**

It was a wonderfully beautiful spring day in Russia with the flowers blooming, the birds singing, and the weather warming up. It was the sort of day Russians longed for after another cold, dreary winter was coming to a close, but scarcely hoped for. It just seemed too wonderful, but it was there and lovely. Unfortunately for the personification of the large country, he wasn't enjoying it as much as he should have been.

"What if I come at this from a different angle?"

Ivan stood staring at his girlfriend with obvious incredulous and skepticism. "There _is _no other angle," he sighed, rubbing his temple, desperate to get his headache to leave.

"No, you're just not thinking outside the box on this one, Big Guy!" Amelia protested, studying the Russian's hand carefully. "See, if we lace fingers, then people will _definitely _think something's going on with us. But if we just cup our hands, they might think we've gotten them glued together or something and not take us seriously at all! See, the trick is getting this just right so that people will not notice right away, and will be left questioning our relationship status. Now, what if we half laced, half cupped—?"

"AMELIA!"

The blonde immediately stilled and looked up at the Russian with surprised blue eyes. Ivan didn't like yelling, he preferred to let his intimidating aura scare people into silence before he spoke, but America was the exception. She was _always _the exception. The girl could be as blind as a bat if she so chose to ignore certain situations, and now was one of those times. He had needed to get her attention, and now that he had, he couldn't help but wish she would just understand so he wouldn't have to actually say how stupid she was being…

"You're being stupid."

…But then again, there was a certain pleasure in being able to say that to the girl's face and no longer have to worry about a baseball bat to the cranium. Though that wouldn't have stopped Ivan, and he was pretty sure that him being her boyfriend wouldn't stop Amelia either if she had that trusty makeshift weapon nearby, or if she was in a bad enough mood. The girl needed to be taught not just in the matters of romancing, but in her manners too. Russia was determined to get the blonde to think more and talk less…if she could do that, _then _she could go about, randomly swinging things, like Ivan.

Unfortunately for him, Russia's blunt manners did not seem to be at all appreciated by the American, who glared at him intently, posting her hands on her hips angrily. "I am _not _'being stupid'," she snorted, mocking his accent with those last words. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to get this right."

Ivan rolled his eyes. "We are simply going to be holding hands, Amelia, there is no right or wrong way to do that."

"Yes there is!" she cried. "If we lace, then people will think we're sleeping together or something, but if we cup our hands, then they might think we're just messing around. Or maybe—"

Without pomp, Russia strode over to the smaller fretting nation and took her hand in his firmly. Amelia let out a squeak that secretly Ivan found adorable, as he laced his fingers with hers. "We are going on a walk and then out to dinner," he told her sternly. "We are holding hands and enjoying ourselves whether you like it or not." A threat hung clearly in the air.

The girl chewed at her bottom lip anxiously, as she looked between Ivan and their laced fingers. "But what if someone sees us holding hands like this and thinks—"

"_Nyet_," Ivan shook his head. "No thinking. No worrying. We are going out as a couple and everyone else can mind their own business."

"Yeah, but what if—!"

"NO," the Russian said more forcefully. "We are _enjoying _ourselves." He steered them out of the hotel room, through the halls, down the stairs, and out the door, keeping a firm grip on her hand as she tried to wiggle out of his hold as they passed by many people checking in and out of the hotel.

"Seriously, though," Amelia protested once they were outside in the spring air. She tripped a little over something that looked like a large rock in the middle of the street, but he didn't stop to inspect it, determined to go on with his date. He was pleased that she wasn't trying to yank her hand away from his anymore at the moment, though he was a little discouraged that she continued to complain. She had probably forgotten about the actual physical contact, he mused with bitter mirth, only now trying to win the argument with words. "If they see us lacing, they—"

"They might believe that we are a happy couple going out for an evening," he finished for her, oppressing her negativity with his certainty. It was strange, really. Usually he was the more negative and America was always the eternal optimistic.

All protests and complaints ended there Russia was glad to observe, and together, the two great powers walked silently through the streets of Moscow. After spending so much time in Washington D.C., Ivan had felt it was finally his turn to take America on a guided tour around his home. It was the first time in a long while that Amelia had come to Moscow without a business pretense of some sort, and Ivan wanted her to enjoy it. He wanted to show her Moscow as she'd never been able to see it before, free of stress or worry, to show her the real beauty of Red Square, let her explore St. Basil's Cathedral or Bolshoi Theatre. Everyone else from the initial bet had been able to show America the best of their homes without worry, why shouldn't Russia be able to too?

The plan was to have a walking tour around Red Square for a bit, just relax, before going out to eat. Ivan had made reservations for Café Pushkin. He knew its quaint, old world feel would charm any remaining resistance right out of Amelia. The girl was a sucker for "authentic" nowadays, and the Pushkin was just the sort of place that would deliver, satisfying America's expectations of "real" Russian. It was more of a tourist restaurant, Ivan thought, but Amelia wouldn't really notice, she'd love it, he just knew it.

"What would you like to do first?" Ivan asked happily, feeling chipper in the fresh spring air along with the woman he loved by his side. With even just the hand holding, he already felt closer to her, like they had connected deeper than before. He liked this closeness he had with her, and he found himself wanting much more.

Still looking fearfully out in the crowd of hundreds of people ignoring her, Amelia shrugged slightly. Really, the girl needed to realize that the world didn't revolve around her and not everyone was watching her all the time. The Russians might be curious should they find out about their nation had a relationship, but he doubted that they would freak out…much…maybe. Well at least they wouldn't as much as the Americans, or write horrible gossip about them…maybe…Hmm, maybe he should make an announcement to tell them all to mind their own business?

But for the time being, no one even really seemed to notice them, as the humans all hurried to their own destinations, avidly avoiding the towering couple. They weren't the type to stop and ask questions like inquisitive Americans might. Going out like this for the first time was probably better in Moscow than D.C, Russia mused.

"I know!" Ivan said brightly after several minutes of walking with no destination in mind. "Why not go to _Pokrovsky Sobor_? You would like that, _da_?"

The blonde looked up at him for the first time since leaving the hotel and smiled slightly. America seemed uncharacteristically shy at the moment, and even though he knew he shouldn't, Ivan found it absolutely adorable. He was beginning to like this new Amelia just as well as the old…though he did hope she would become more lively again soon. She was just more entertaining that way. "Sure," she nodded. "That sounds nice."

Together, the two walked to St. Basil's Cathedral and towards the front of the line, despite the protest from other tourists that had been waiting patiently before them. Going up to the worker, ignoring the muttering humans behind him, Russia smiled pleasantly at the young man working. "You need to wait in line like everyone else," the boy said simply before staring at Amelia with curiosity.

"I do not," Ivan smiled wider, not liking the way the boy was eyeing his girlfriend. "I am _Rossiyskaya Federatsiya_, and this is _Soyedinyenniye Shtati Amerika_," he explained to the now wide-eyed young man. "I am talking her on a tour," he said simply before walking past him and into the cathedral without another word.

He didn't really expect to get away with the action without further question, humans always being the nosy, whining types, but to his delight, Ivan did. It made him look good, he decided, showed off his power to Amelia. He hoped she'd be impressed by how much authority he had, but a part of him knew she would probably be troubled by it, at least nationalistically. The balance between their nationality and humanity was always such a tricky thing.

"Are we going to get into trouble?" she asked once they had moved away from the guards, looking over her shoulder as though someone was following them.

"No," Russia said carelessly. "This belongs to the state and I _am _the state. Technically I could kick them all out."

The blonde looked surprised, like she had never thought of it that way at all, before smiling crookedly, almost sinisterly. "That's an excellent point," she nodded appreciatively. "Okay, Mr. State, show me around your place."

Ivan bowed his head playfully, before taking her arm in his, the way they had done so many years ago, as he began his tour. Together, as the two nations looked around the cathedral, America's eyes wide with wonder as she gazed at all of the mosaics, the gold surrounding the alter, and all of the beautiful relics. Amelia had been there before, Ivan remembered showing it to her nearly two hundred years ago when she had first crossed over seas and into Eastern Europe. She had been so much younger then, so easily impressed. Back then, Ivan had absolutely adored the fact that America had been so struck with awe by his "simple little cathedral". But even after all those years, Ivan smiled fondly at the girl now on his arm with that same admiration reflecting in those sky blue eyes. Still, after all that time.

The large country patiently allowed the girl to pull him around as she demanded facts and dates, names and explanations of the saints and other figures, the chandeliers, and anything else that caught her eye that she didn't remember from last time. All too happily, Ivan obliged her, pointing out his own points of interest. Not many people liked the pleasure of his company, so it wasn't often Ivan got to play tour guide, but he basked in the glow of the American's praise. He even took her to sections that were normally off limits to the general public.

When they made it back to the sanctuary, Ivan found himself falling into the very old habit and crossed himself three times before looking for a relic to kiss upon entering. The cathedral hadn't been a proper place of worship since the 1920s, but it still inspired the Russian every time he entered into it. He remembered watching it being built, while on the leash of Ivan the Terrible. He remembered watching the domes and the spires going up, watching the painters painstakingly sketch out the saints, the masons working on the stone floors. Everything had been much simpler then, it seemed, having the church run nearly everything. It hadn't been until Peter the Great had come around, bring all those heathenistic western ideas, that things had started to change for Russia, and not all for the better.

"I remember coming here for mass," Amelia's strangely quiet voice brought the Slav from out of his musings. She looked breathless, and her eyes were wide, taking in the beauty from long ago.

"Do you?" he asked, a bit surprised.

"Yeah," she nodded. "The service lasted three hours. My feet hurt really bad when we got back to the palace."

Russia rolled his eyes. "That's really the only reason you remember it?"

"No," she shook her blonde head. "I also remember being a little lost when trying to follow along. I still don't understand the church language much," she pouted in thought, looking a bit annoyed.

Ivan chuckled. "Church Slavonic is very old, long before your time, _Kalinka_. Not many people really remember it today save for those in the church."

"You Orthodox types do love your incense too," America began walking forward, forcing Russia to as well. "I remember feeling a bit sick after having it waved in my face for hours." The Slav chuckled. "Why did the priest have to put it right in my face?"

"Maybe because he knew you were extra sinful, being of the Protestant variety," Ivan giggled, loving how he could get her riled up without really trying. "I'm joking," he soothed. "It was probably just because you smelled."

"Shut up, you," Amelia gripped his arm painfully tight, causing the bigger nation to wince. Such strength in one so small!

Giggling, the bigger nation ignored the display of aggression and went on to point out the different saints that guarded the alter. Amelia listened obediently, though he could tell she recognized many of them, before they lapsed into silence and looked around. Strangely, there was no one else around, there had not been since they had arrived. Perhaps the guards had gotten everyone out so their nation could have a private tour with his guest? How nice! America seemed to notice too, but she didn't appear to be as pleased by the notion.

"So…you never use this for services anymore?" America asked to break the silence.

"Correct," he nodded. "It's only a museum now."

Amelia frowned. "That's kinda sad, isn't it? I mean, it was a cathedral for, like, ever, wasn't it?"

Ivan's eyes took on a very far away expression. "_Da_. The groundbreaking was in 1555…but it's a nice tribute to my history," he tried to brighten himself up, away from long dead melancholy memories.

"It is," the blonde agreed readily, though as she looked around, her eyes fell on the balcony. "I remember you standing up there singing, though," she pointed up. "At the service, while I was standing with the congregation, you chanted back and forth with the priests, and you sang that one song."

"There are many songs that I have sung in my life, _Kalinka_, you are going to have to be more specific," he rolled his eyes playfully.

The girl pouted. "You know! That one song…" Her face scrunched up with thought, and she began to hum a melody that started to come back to the Russian. "_Blagoslovenna Ti v'zhenah,_" she sang a small portion before stopping. "That's all I remember," she admitted.

Humming the small section she had, it suddenly dawned on Russia, and he hummed the whole thing. "Like that?" he asked.

"Yeah!" America smiled brightly, looking excited. "What's it called again?"

"_Bogoroditse Devo_. I suppose in the western tradition, it would be an arrangement of _Ave Maria_," he explained thoughtfully.

"Sing it."

The big man looked down. "What?"

"Sing it," Amelia repeated, her eyes sparkling far too much for Ivan's liking.

"_N-Nyet_, I do not think that—"

Beaming, Amelia began jumping up and down like a little rabbit. "Sing it, sing it, sing it, sing it!" she cried, her tone slightly higher pitched than normal, morphing into her "cute" voice.

"I can't," Ivan tried to still his bouncing little bunny, though he wasn't trying very hard. "Maybe some other time?"

"Oh come on! Please?"

Curse that pouting lip of hers! Sighing, the big Slav took a few breaths before starting. Although he usually liked to pit his voice higher, believing it made him sound pleasanter and less threatening, he could not deny that he was a bass when singing. He had a large range, yet when singing, he fell into the deep pit of bass-hood. With the acoustics of the building, it didn't take much to make the Russian's voice ring out and echo throughout the empty old cathedral. He hadn't sang this particular song in years, shamefully having to admit he'd nearly forgotten the ancient lyric from before his time as the Soviet Union, when all religion was banned and there was no singing of such songs, but he could still sing it, the words hidden in the back of his mind almost secretly, ready to come forward at his command.

When he was finished with the short chant, he looked down to see Amelia staring up at him with dazzling eyes. She had apparently liked the song, and it caused the big man to blush. "There. No more singing," he averted his eyes, not wanting to get talking into singing again.

"That was…beautiful," the girl said honestly. "Really." They fell silent. "So, uh, is it dinner time yet?"

Smirking, Ivan nodded. "_Da_. I've made reservations."

As they made their way out of the cathedral, the hosting nation frowned at the lack of human activity, though he didn't say anything. It had been nice to have the place to themselves, just him and Amelia, but it was also…a little disconcerting. He hadn't told the tour groups to _stop_ bringing people in, so was there something wrong? By the look on America's face, she was thinking along the same lines, but not wanting her to worry, Ivan flashed her a bright smile.

"I thought you'd enjoy Pushkin," he informed her as they walked back out into the open air.

The blonde frowned. "You mean the poet?"

Ivan chuckled. "No, I was meaning the restaurant. We'll save the poet for later."

Amelia smiled instantly. "You mean that super cute little café that's really old and sells quill pens and has a dress code and everything?" she was nearly bouncing up and down again.

There was really no need to congratulate himself on his girlfriend's reaction as Ivan knew she would love it, but he indulged himself and let a smug smirk come to his face. "_Da_. That's the one."

"Ohmygosh!" the girl positively beamed. "I _love _that place! Please tell me you reserved a special section? This is why you made me dress nicer? Where are we sitting? I'm so excited!"

Proud of himself, the Slav tried to look nonchalant as he nodded to the first two questions, though he was pretty certain she wasn't even paying attention to him to actually see his response. "Oh, just the Fireplace Hall," he answered her final question when she stopped her rambling.

America gasped dramatically. "I _love _that one!" she squealed, jumping up and down so much that her arm came out of Ivan's, though the Russian managed to grab her hand again. "Let's go! Is it soon? Come on, come on! We gotta get there, and soon!"

Chuckling, Ivan nodded, walking his girlfriend to the restaurant to spend a pleasant evening with her, praising himself on his plan to make Amelia completely relaxed and happy; so relax that she completely forget about the fact that they were still holding hands, a step closer to becoming intimate.

**oOoOoOo**

That same spring morning, Belarus looked out her window and decided that it was a nice day. The sun was shining, warming the remains of winter away, making it possible to put away the heavy coats and enjoy the weather in a light jacket. It was a perfect day in Eastern Europe, and because it was so perfect, the girl decided that she should brighten her big brother's day even more by going to see him. Russia loved weather like this, and he loved her, so she would only brighten his day by showing up unexpectedly to surprise him.

It took her awhile to get to Russia, but she had little trouble since the border guards knew and feared her. They could never really think of a proper excuse that would dissuade the girl from entering anyway, and in the end, the Russians decided it wasn't so bad that she was there, considering that all she ever did when in their country was harass their personification. That's not to say that they didn't love their country and didn't care that he was being harassed, but Russia never actively took action to stop his sisters from being around him. And so, Natalia got into the country with ease, and she drove to Moscow in search of her big brother.

She had gotten up early that morning and decided to drive instead of fly, mostly because her boss was getting sick of her spending so much money flying, but partially so she could enjoy the scenic beauty of not only her country, but big brother's as well. When she arrived after a little over nine hour drive at three o'clock in the afternoon. She went straight to her brother's house, excited, though it showed very little on her face.

"Big brother," she knocked on the door. "Big brother, open the door! It's me! Big brother!"

Not a sound came from within the house, but she was used to that. Big brother was very quiet, sometimes so quiet she didn't think he was home when he really was sometimes. So looking for the spare key he had hidden outside, in which he changed the hiding spot frequently, Natalia found it fairly easily before letting herself in. "Big brother!" she called, growing excited to see him. But after a thorough inspection of the house, the girl realized that her brother wasn't home. She thought that perhaps he was working and that she should wait until he came home, until she had noticed that his briefcase was still in his study, signifying meaning he wasn't at the office. So where else could he be?

Not wanting to wait around forever, Belarus decided that maybe he was in Red Square. It was such a lovely day, maybe he decided to just go on a walk? With that in mind, she headed out, and went to Red Square.

She looked around the Square by herself for a little bit, not seeing her brother's head stick up above the crowd like usual. It was a little disheartening as she'd wanted to spend as much time with Ivan as possible, but then again, she hadn't told him she was coming. So, continuing her search, she was outside of the Heliopark Empire hotel when she tripped over a rock. She stumbled, nearly fell on her face, before she felt a pair of hands catch her. Before she could even react to being saved, she found herself in a bush that she hadn't remembered ever being there before, with a hand over her mouth.

"Shhh!" a vaguely familiar voice growled in her ear. "Do you want to give me away? Break all my equipment?"

Scowling, not liking being treated this way, Belarus had no trouble biting the fingers that covered her mouth. She listened with satisfaction as the person holding her hostage gasp and grunted with pain, but he did not cry out. His grip loosened, and when it did, she spun around to attack him, knives at the ready, when she came face to face with Britain.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed deadly, ready to cut the man's throat open, but once more, she did not get an answer.

"Shh!" Britain said again, pushing her down farther into the bush. "Here they come."

Confused, Belarus was about to ask more questions, when she heard another familiar voice speaking. "Seriously though!" the high pitched voice of America exclaimed. Instantly alert, Belarus peeked out of the bush just in time to see America trip over the same randomly placed rock that she had a moment before. But that didn't hold her attention too long, as she spied something else. Something very, _very _terrible.

America was holding big brother's hand. _Natalia's _big brother's hand. The European girl saw red as she noted the fingers lacing in a very intimate fashion. Intimate with _her _brother! That whore had somehow seduced her brother! That fiend! That slut! That…that…big brother stealer!

"Dammit," England growled next to her. "I _knew _something was really up with them!"

Before Belarus could do anything, Britain was out of the bush and walking over to the rock. He looked it over for damage where the two girl's had tripped over it, and as he did so, Natalia saw a camera within. He lifted it up carefully before walking back over to the bush. Natalia got out of his way, not caring about the blonde anymore, as her eyes followed after her brother and the slut that had stolen him away.

"Where do you think you're going?" England asked after storing the rock back into the bush to hide it.

Turning murderous eyes upon the island nation, Belarus snarled. "I'm getting my big brother away from that whore!"

"Amelia is _not _a whore!" the other nation exclaimed, his green eyes lighting up in defense of his little sister. "If anything, it's that big monstrosity of a nation's fault! He seduced my baby sister!"

"Big brother would _never _seduce that fat bitch!" Natalia held her knife up threateningly.

Surprisingly, however, the island did not appear threatened at all. "Please," he snorted, rolling his eyes. "Russia, not seducing? What, then, is 'become one with Mother Russia' supposed to mean?"

Letting out a shriek, Natalia jumped at the blonde, pinning him to the wall of the hotel with a knife pressed against his throat. "Big brother would _never _do that!"

Green eyes scanned over her coldly, so cold that for a moment, the girl was surprised by it. She had never really had much direct dealing with England, never really wanted to, but she had always thought he was the short tempered, fiery sort. She never expected such a frosty look from him. "Fine. It doesn't really matter whose seduced who, but the point— and I think you can agree— is that your brother and my sister are now a couple and neither of us like it." She lowered her knife half an inch. "We need to come up with a remedy."

"Easy," Belarus stepped back, allowing the Englishman to stand by himself. "I kill _Amerika_."

The man crossed his arms severely, looking very much like a disapproving father. "And I would like very much to kill Russia, but I doubt that that would be in either of our best interests," his voice was dry.

The girl huffed, scowling, but she couldn't help her eyes wandering to the bush and the rock hidden within. "What are you doing here then? Trying to kill big brother?"

"No," the blonde rolled his eyes. "I came here to gather information."

"You were spying," she said simply, crossing her own arms.

The island looked a bit uncomfortable, but eventually nodded, admitting to his felony. "I suppose it can be considered that."

"Why?" she pressed.

"To find a reason for Amelia to break up with Russia," his voice was steely, like he was convinced that he could and would get his little sister to end her relationship with the large Slavic state.

"Then why not just grab her and take her home?" Natalia asked, not at all liking the fact that she was wasting precious time that she could be saving her brother from the terrible western nation by talking to this idiot that used rock camera's to spy on others.

"Because it wouldn't work," his voice was extremely condescending, making the Belarusian twitch irritably. "Telling Amelia not to do something is a sure way to make her keep doing it, to find _reasons _to keep doing it even if she knows you're right. No," he shook his head, "I need to figure out a way to get her to break up with Russia in a manner which she believes she came to by her own powers."

Belarus almost scoffed, almost told the Englishman that his idea was incredibly stupid and worthless when she paused. Maybe it wasn't such a terrible idea after all. Ivan was pretty stubborn too once he made his mind up, and in order for him to completely realize how evil the American still was, it would probably be more significant if he realized this for himself, and not just by her telling him. Although Natalia would normally _never _want her brother to be unhappy, knowing how much of his past still hurt him and wanting to spare him anymore heartache, this called for desperate measures. Clearly the American had done something to her brother, tricked him somehow, and he would probably believe more of her lies. What if she had brain washed him?

Cautiously, Belarus looked the Englishman up and down before putting away her knifes. "What did you have in mind?"

Seemingly surprised at finding a quick ally, Britain recovered after a moment before smirking. "I planned on stalking them, find out the exact manner of their relationship, and see if there's anything I can use against them."

The girl nodded, before looking ahead. "I will help you today. But," she cut off his reply sharply. "If a solution is not found by the end of the day, I will kill her."

The blonde snorted again. "Fine. You just do that. But come then! They're getting away!"

The two unlikely allies rushed off and began stalking their prey at a distance. They found the couple easily enough due to Russia's great height and were just in time to hear the Slav brightening to an idea. "I know! Why not go to _Pokrovsky Sobor_? You would like that, _da_?"

Belarus watched with disgust as the America shrugged, looking terribly bashful and fake. "Sure. That sounds nice." Did that girl think she was being cute? Did she really think that Ivan would find such a disgusting display of false timid behavior endearing? It took all of Natalia's self-control not to rush over there and tear the other girl's throat out.

Next to her, Belarus heard a growl escape from her companion, and peeked over to see England steaming. Did he really think big brother was so bad? No, Russia was perfect! What could be wrong with big brother? He was obviously upset with his own sister, growing up to be a bitchy whore. That had to be it. It wasn't Ivan, no one could ever see fault with him.

The two spies waited a moment until they saw Russia and America enter into the cathedral quickly without looking back. Britain looked a little discouraged at the sight of the line, but this time, Natalia knew she could help. Stalking up to the front of the line, like her brother did went right up to the poor admissions boy and glared at him. The boy paled visibly, letting her know she had the advantage.

"We're going in," the nation replied tartly, not taking her dark blue eyes off of the human before her. "Everyone else needs to leave. Now."

The Russian looked uncomfortable, like he knew he wasn't supposed to follow Belarus's order, yet he also was smart enough to value his life. And so, he nodded, allowed them to pass, before closing the line, ordering the people who had been waiting so patiently, to go home, that the cathedral was closed for the day. It was obvious that the boy knew what would happen should Belarus become angry and his own nation as well. The Eastern Europeans all learned quickly the temperaments of the Slavic siblings.

Once inside the cathedral, England took over once more, much to Belarus's annoyance, but she allowed him for the time being. They watched silently as the couple— now arm in arm— walking through the cathedral, patiently listening to the American ask questions and the Russian explaining everything. But despite how pleased and rather happy Russia looked, it didn't go unnoticed by Natalia the strange, distrustful look America had on her face as she looked back every once in a while. Did she see them following her? No, she never voiced her concern, instead, always looking back to Russia, listening to his history lessons patiently.

When in the sanctuary, Natalia was frustrated that she couldn't follow her brother closer, to count the many sins she would have to repay America for later, but was startled out of her homicidal thoughts when Britain grabbed her hand. "Come on," he whispered, looking just as grim as she felt.

Together, the two nations went up to the balcony. Natalia was a little annoyed, as she was worried about making too much noise while climbing up the steps, but luckily, Britain was apparently as good at spying as he always claimed to be, and didn't make a sound. Belarus followed his example, quickly taking off her shoes, before running up with the blonde in front of her. The two ducked down while Russia and America were looking towards the front of the cathedral, at the pictures of saints, to sit down with their backs resting against the back of the railing, hidden from view. Together, they listened to the two other personifications down below.

Natalia strained her ears as America spoke, but to her frustrations, Belarus couldn't make out the American's words, though she heard her brother's surprised sounding response. "Do you?" but after Ivan's initial response, she couldn't hear any more that was being said. Strange, she hadn't thought that the American _could _be quiet. Usually the girl was so loud Belarus was tempted to stab her through the throat just to give everyone's ears a rest.

Her eye was caught when Britain motioned to her. Soundlessly, he pointed up, apparently not liking that he couldn't hear the conversation either. Nodding, Natalia slowly got to her knees to peek over the edge to look down. Carefully, the two spies watched for a moment as America and Russia just talked, looking about before they fell silent. Ivan began looking around, a strange look on his face, and America too. Quickly, the European girl ducked back down, pulling Britain with her. She knew how distrustful big brother could be, and had heard about America's legendary paranoia and wasn't about to risk getting caught.

When nothing happened, they suddenly heard humming. It was America, humming a tone that sounded familiar. Ivan's muffed voice spoke up, in answer, before America's obnoxious voice suddenly came alive, chanting, "Sing it, sing it, sing it, sing it!" followed by the sickening plead of, "Oh come on! Please?"

Then something amazing happened, and halting Natalia's hatred and frustration to melt it away as she heard the wonderfully melodious voice of her big brother wash over her. He was singing the Rejoice of the Virgin Mother. The Belarusian hadn't heard it in a while, and certainly not as beautiful as her brother sang it. It was as though an angel had descended down into Moscow to give a performance. It was not a very long song, and Natalia was sorry it had to end. Tears stood out in her eyes when it was finished.

Britain's touch on the shoulder was the only thing that got Belarus out of her euphoric bliss. Not liking being dragged out from her happy place at all, she threw the Brit a contemptuous glare, but strangely, the blonde didn't react like she'd wanted. "Come on," he mouthed to her. Realizing that her brother and the skank had gone, she got up with the Englishmen, and followed them out into the streets of Red Square.

Once out in the streets, surrounded by people, Britain sighed disgustedly. "This is ridiculous," he muttered. "Where are they going? Did you hear? I couldn't hear them in the cathedral."

Looking out at the back of her brother's head, which poked out above the other's walking down the street, she looked to see what direction they were heading. It was getting late, a little after five, so they were probably going to get something to eat. Where would a greedy American like to go? "Pushkin," she said resolutely, ignoring her companion's questioning gaze. "Let's go."

Sure enough, Natalia was pleased to see that her guess had been right. Ivan liked the Café Pushkin_. _"Don't we need reservations to get in here?" England asked beside her, looking concerned once more as to how they were to enter this establishment.

"I don't," she told him crisply, and walked in.

After informing the manager of who she was, and dropping a few death threats along the way, she managed to be allowed to stay, just as long as she and Britain didn't willfully harass anyone, drive out business, or break anything. While the manager was hardly a frightened boy like the one outside the cathedral, the manager of Pushkin was more interested in keeping business going and not cause any sort of drama in order to keep his customers and business safe.

Wandering through the busy restaurant, Britain asked a waiter where they might find the United States and the Russian Federation. They were directed to the Fireplace Hall. Soon after, they were able to bribe a waiter into letting them sit at an empty table, with a clear view of their target without the couple being able to see them unless they really looked.

"I asked the waiter to place a miniature microphone near their table," Britain explained before adjusting what looked similar to a hearing aid in ear. "Here, I have a spare," he handed one over the Belarus.

The moment she had that small piece of technology in her ear, Natalia instantly heard America's annoying voice fill her head. "This place is off the chizz-ang!" the other girl squealed in delight.

Looking over, the Belarusian saw her brother smile softly. It made her blood boil. "I am glad you like it, _Kalinka_."

"Dude, this is the best!" America babbled on. "That one waiter guy was so cute!" Both spying nations saw Russia's features darken instantly. "His accent was so sweet! Where was he from?"

"Novosibirsk, I believe," the Russia stated flatly.

"It was a cute accent," she giggled. "Can you talk in that accent?"

"Of course," Ivan instantly changed into the Siberian accent, "just as easily as you can switch to your southern." America giggled, and hearing it apparently pleased the big man, as he smirked. "You know what I think is cute?" he asked, a sly look coming about him in a way Natalia absolutely hated.

"What?" America leaned forward, smiling brightly. She obviously was trying to seduce big brother even more, the whore.

"Your accent." Russia smirked at the American's blush. Natalia nearly stood up to murder the other girl on the spot, but was stopped by England's hand on hers. "Your Russian is actually quite good," the large nation praised, "for a nation that selfishly only uses English, I'm impressed."

The Superpower snorted. "I speak Spanish fluently, thank you very much, and my German and Mandarin's not too bad either," she crossed her arms.

"Only because of business," Ivan grinned. "So why is it you still know Russian so well?"

"You kidding me?" the blonde rolled her eyes. "I spent _decades _spying on you, monitoring your communications, and translating all of it. After nearly fifty years, I think I still remember my Russian."

"Hmm," the Slav leaned forward with a look that made his sister uncomfortable. "Well, aren't you a little smarty?"

America blushed, but the waiter came back and took their order, halting any further flirting activity. Ivan ordered quickly, but for a moment, all America's boasting about knowing Russian came to not as she momentarily freaked out over the prices. "One _thousand_ ninety for cisko? Dude!" It took Russia's embarrassed mumble of "It's in _rubles_," to pacify the blonde, who only looked mildly embarrassed at her momentary forgetfulness.

After that, nothing really interesting happened. Belarus was forced to sit still and listen to her brother make small talk with the American until the Superpower began telling a story, laughing obnoxiously. Honestly, what did Ivan see in her? She was ordinary looking, bordering on plain as far as Natalia was concerned, and her attitude was just terrible. America was selfish, domineering, and just generally exhausting to be around. Why would her brother, after nearly _fifty years _of complete and total distrust suddenly want to spend all his time with the girl? Why would he throw away his common sense and be seduced by her?

In the end, after not ordering anything, Britain and Belarus followed America and Russia out once they were finished with their meal, each having looked around suspiciously a couple times throughout. But Britain knew what he was doing, being the world's leading spy, and since Belarus was a pro at stalking her big brother, neither had trouble concealing themselves from their paranoid subjects.

When they walked back to the Heliopark Empire hotel, Natalia was dismayed to watch her brother not just drop off America, but go in with her. She panicked when she thought about all of the America's pretty smiles. Was she going to seduce Ivan right now? She threw Britain a frightened look and didn't feel at all comforted when she saw he mirrored her own concern. With one quick look, they turned and rushed in, quickly discovering America's room number. They took the elevator and were just in time to see the couple turning the corner, still holding hands.

Natalia stopped, and peeked around the corner in time to see America open the hotel room door before she turned around to look at Russia. "Thanks for tonight, Ivan…It was a lot of fun."

Although she couldn't see his face, Belarus was certain he was smiling. "You are very welcome, Amelia. Perhaps next time we can have more time to look at everything."

"Or go to St. Petersburg!" the blonde laughed. "That place was just beautiful. Sorry, dude, but that palace of yours kicked ass!"

The Russian chuckled. "I'm glad you still remember it."

"Hard to forget!"

An awkward silence descended upon the pair, the perfect time to fill in with a kiss. Belarus unconscious sucked in a breath, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. What should she do? Expose herself in order to stop her brother from tainting his lips, or stay still, as Britain, who seemed more frozen than anything. It was a terrible situation to be in, but just before she was about to act, do something drastic, America, surprisingly did the job for her.

"Haha, w-well…Night! Thanks for the night," she blushed.

Although not many people would have noticed, Natalia did, and she watched as her brother's shoulders slumped ever so slightly. "Okay…I'll come get you in the morning to take you to the airport."

"Aw, you don't have to do that, dude. I'll be fine," the blonde protested.

"_Nyet_, I will get you," Russia argued. "What sort of host would I be if I didn't see to it that you arrived home safely to the best of my abilities?"

The girl laughed again, before giving the Slav's hand a squeeze. "Thanks for today," she said again. "I had a lot of fun. I'm only sorry I didn't have more time to spend here…Night," she smiled one last time before turning and shutting the door.

"Goodnight," Ivan's slightly sad voice responded. Natalia watched agitatedly as her brother's shoulders more visibly drooped the moment the door was closed, and heard him sigh. Despite how badly she wanted to go comfort him, Belarus knew she should go, and Britain was right there with her. The island grabber her hand, and together they fled the hotel, ducking into the bush the island had placed outside the door just before the Russian personification walked.

Once he was gone, Natalia got out of the bush, determined to go after her brother and surprise him, perhaps talk to him about his apparent…relation with America.

"Wait!" Britain called. "Where are you going?"

"To big brother's house," she looked down her nose at the other nation, who had leaves in his hair. "This foolishness with _Amerika _has to end."

"I agree, but not like this!" England argued. "Didn't you learn anything from this mission?" At her scowl, the Brit elaborated. "Didn't you notice how they kept looking around when we were following them? Especially Amelia?"

Natalia frowned. "Yes," she admitted.

"Well, don't you see?" the other smiled brightly. "That's the key! _We _don't have to say anything to them, not really, we just have to make them distrust one another again, not enough to risk nuclear war this time, but back to where they were a couple years ago, friendlier, but wary."

The Belarusian paused, not sure she liked the idea completely. "How could we do that?" she asked carefully.

"Well, a subtle hint here, a distrustful comment should would do the trick. All we would have to do is just drop the little clues and I'm _sure_, at least with Amelia, that she'll make up her own conclusions and blow things out of proportion. When she does that, she'll break off this ridiculous…thing she has going with your brother."

Natalia frowned deeper. "And," Britain went on, smiling, "as long as we do not directly attack them, they will believe we're just concerned, yet supporting siblings. What do you say? Are you willing to help me to save Ame—I mean, your brother?"

Although she was jealous, wanted nothing more than for her big brother to end his fling with America, there was a small part in Natalia's mind that told her that she shouldn't be doing this. The small part registered how happy Ivan had been in the presence of the American girl. But then, that small part of her was drowned by the anger, hurt, and utter envious half quickly, and she slowly nodded her head. This was for Ivan's own good, after all. One day he would understand.

"Okay," she nodded more firmly. "I will do it."

"Brilliant!" the island smiled, holding out his hand. "If something changes or I have another idea, I'll be in touch. Good evening," he nodded when they shook hands, and with that, the blonde picked up his rock, and left, leaving Belarus to wonder if she had not just made a deal with a crazy person.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, I think the rock needs some explaining. Several months ago, I read an article about how a British spy camera was found in Russia, disguised as a rock… I mean, really? There wasn't too much on the subject that I could find, but I found it absolutely hilarious when I read what little I found on it. It was just this weird, out of place rock with this HUGE old camera in it. I thought it was funny, and couldn't help poking a little fun at it too~ Sorry all my lovely Englishmen. I appreciate all that you've contributed in history and society, but a rock? Pfff! Love it! XD Now I know where America gets all his great ideas…But please, excuse the title…I couldn't think of a good one. ^^"

**Lyrics: **In case you were wondering, this is the Church Slavonic and then English. I've actually sang a version of _Bogoroditse Devo_, only it was for a Serbian Orthodox Church not Russian…though there _were _Russian bishops there from Moscow there, though…

Bogoroditse Devo, raduysia, Rejoice, O Virgin Mother Of God,  
Blagodatnaya Mariye, Mary full of grace, the Lord is with You.  
Ghospod s'Toboyu. Blessed are You among women,  
Blagoslovenna Ti v'zhenah, i blagosloven and blessed is the Fruit of Your womb,  
Plod chreva Tvoyego, for You have borne the Savior of our souls.  
yako Spasa rodila, yesi dush nashih.

**Exchange Rate: **_1 USD:32.2061 RUB_ (this is as of 4 July 2012, to be specific since the rate apparently fluctuates by day…though I'm sticking with around 1:32 ratio here).

'**Nother Note: **I tried to make everything as real as possible, so mentions of specific places are real, and I looked through COUNTLESS pictures of both the hotel and Café Pushkin to make sure I got everything correct, including price and meals and everything. I even looked up the traveling distance between Minsk and Moscow. . So sorry for being a little late, but this chapter was tricky to write, not just because of facts, but how to get it right with Britain and Belarus spying this chapter, but don't be fooled, this story isn't quite like the last one, so don't expect too much more spying. I have other plans… ;)

Hope you all enjoyed it, and please leave a review on the way out!


	3. Chapter 3: Guns and Roses

**Chapter Three: Guns and Roses**

Amelia stood around the corner, gun raised, ears straining to catch even the faintest sound. Her chest was heaving, her heart pounding, and sweat was running down her face. She longed to take off her helmet, hating the oppressive heat it forced upon her, but she didn't dare move, not even to retie her hair back into a ponytail to keep it from getting into her eyes. She couldn't afford to let her concentration slip, not for even a second, not when she was dealing with that communist bastard.

A deep frown etched itself into her features as she thought of the Russian who was currently stalking her, anger and resentment coursing through her veins at merely the idea of him. Still, she couldn't believe what he had done, couldn't believe she had been so naïve towards him. After nearly fifty years of constant fighting, constant rivalry, she should have known better. She had gone against what her head had told her and followed her heart, and now this is where it got her: hiding behind a corner, waiting to shoot the bastard before he could shoot her. She had trusted him, and he had betrayed her.

A grim sort of smile came to the blonde's lips as she remembered an hour ago, when she had turned her back to the Slav, and he had fired. It was only due to her cat-like reflexes as the personification of the United States of America that had saved her, and she was grateful. He had very nearly ended her right then and there, but the look on his face when she had managed to dodge him had been amusing. But it was also the reason they were playing this game of cat and mouse.

The sound of quiet footfall brought the American out of her musings, causing her to tense. He was near. Involuntarily, her heart began hammering harder and faster in her chest, and she became afraid that he would discover her by the sound of her heart alone. Whimsically, she wondered if her heart could fall out like Russia's, but she pushed that thought back for later. Right now, she was in danger, and she knew what she had to do.

Holding her breath, so that she was completely silent, Amelia waited. Russia's careful steps were getting closer, and she knew that in a matter of seconds, she would be forced to react. A small part of her told her that she couldn't do this, she couldn't shoot the man that had only a few months ago had come into her life in such a meaningful way, had finally answered her hidden, unrequited love for him, but the stronger part of her could not let go of the resentment of his surprise attack. _America _knew Russia was no good, was still not a friend, yet _Amelia _always got in her way. But this time, this time it was different. This time Amelia, too, wanted revenge.

He was so close, she could hear his breathing. Fear shot up her spine, but she pushed it down ruthlessly. Now was not the time to be a coward, now was the time to be a real hero! And it was because of that strong, insatiable desire to be recognized as a hero, she began counting in her head, slowly, waiting for just the right moment to attack.

_One_. His heavy feet made his steps seem to ring in the silence.

_Two_. His breathing was also harsh, as the stress of the situation was probably getting to him too.

_Three_. Now was the time.

Spinning around the corner in a blaze of green and black, Amelia's gunfire rang out like victory bells in the air. The Russian, caught off guard, spun around too, but for just a split second, he froze. When his enemy's gun fired, he stumbled back ever so slightly at the impact of the hits.

Amelia counted her shots, and marked their positions. One: in the shoulder. Two: on the neck. Three: on the stomach. Four and Five: in the chest, over his heart.

A vicious, satisfied smile slowly turned up the girl's lips. America watched with the utmost satisfaction as the red began running down the Russian's front, over his clothes. He looked up at her with wide, shocked amethyst eyes, yet Amelia could find no sympathy for him. Not anymore. Not after what he had done. He deserved this for betraying her, and she was glad to do him this harm. She would do it again too, over and over, if given the chance.

And as a tense silence fell over the two, and the Russian's defeat was inescapable, the blonde pulled off her helmed, shaking out her hair from its hold. "_Do Svidaniya, moy droog_," she smirked, grimly to the revolted Russian.

Suddenly, the lights flickered on, and a voice over the loudspeaker laughed. "Wow! That was awesome!"

Amelia turned to look up at the manager of the paintball area and smiled brightly, laughing as well. "I know, right?"

Behind her, the blonde heard a loud, terrible curse escape her companion, followed by the throwing of a helmet. She turned to look at him, to see that the Slav had managed to completely shatter his helmet when he'd thrown it down, and was now tearing off his safety glasses and vest to damage as well. The manager of the store was watching with a terrified expression as the big man broke the equipment and cursed savagely. Amelia had to admit, when Russian was screamed and spoken in such a harsh manner, it did sound rather demonic. The fact that she had never even _heard _some of the combinations of curses before didn't help the matter either, and actually caused the blonde to blush a bit.

"Dude, calm down, Big Guy, it was just a game," she walked over to her boyfriend.

Murderous purple eyes looked down at her, and she could almost see the waves of hatred rolling off of him. "You cheated!" he snarled.

"Me?" Amelia scoffed. "You're the one that started before I was ready; which, by the way, is against the rules!"

"I was joking!" Ivan defended himself stiffly. "You were the one…eh, 'camping out'."

The blonde scowled. "We never agreed that camping was against the rules; _plus_ I knowfor a _fact_ that you did it at least once, remember? When we were in the corner of the building?"

The Russian waved her off angrily, as though her point didn't matter at all. "You still cheated."

"I did not!" the girl cried, knowing she was falling into his trap to make her angry, but she couldn't let this go. It was the principle of the thing! Her? Cheat? Never! Heroes didn't cheat, they didn't _need _to cheat!

"This game is stupid," the Slav finally huffed, crossing his arms. "Don't even use real guns."

Amelia rolled her eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, not everyone can get shot multiple times in the head and still live like you can, ya big juggernaut. Besides," she went on once she realized that the manager was starting to have a meltdown as he began to notice all of the stuff they'd broken during their "little game", "it's safer this way and hurts less. I'm sure you wouldn't want to have to nurse yourself back to health after a game with me."

She instantly knew she'd said something wrong when a sly smirk came to Ivan's lips, and his purple eyes lit up mischievously. "Well," he drawled, making his accent thicker in a way that made the girl wonder if he knew just how much she loved it, "that would depend on the manner of the game." He stepped too close, and grabbed her around the waist.

Annoyed and embarrassed by the action, Amelia pushed the larger nation back before raising her gun to shoot the Slav in the stomach again with another paintball.

"Ouch!" he cried, more out of surprise than anything. "I was not wearing my vest!"

"Not my problem," the girl growled, hoping she could blame the redness of her cheeks on the physical exertion. "Keep your paws off, Buddy."

Rubbing his stomach ruefully, Ivan scowled at his girlfriend, apparently not liking his affection being shot down, so to speak. "Why do you like this game so much, anyway?"

America gawked at the Russian incredulously. "Are you kidding me? Paintballing is about shooting and winning, and I'm America—!"

Ivan promptly shot his girlfriend in the chest with his own paintball gun.

"Hey!" the girl cried. "You can't do that! The game's over and I won! You can't shoot me!"

The Russian casually hefting the gun to his shoulder, wearing a smirk that said, _Oh yes I can_. "Be careful, _Kalinka_," he purred. "You play too much and people might actually start to think you exercise."

Guns were no longer needed as it seemed being shot didn't correct the Slav's behavior. That being the case, Amelia picked up her gun and hit him with it as hard as she could, landing a nice blow to the back of his head.

"_Yo moyo_!" he exclaimed, grabbing his head in pain, effectively dropping his gun, as well as that irritating smirk.

"Oops," the girl snorted. "Guess you shouldn't have broken your helmet."

It looked as though the two nations were about to break out into a fistfight, when the panicky manager's yell caused the two nations to break eye contact. "M-My stuff! H-how much did you break?"

Realizing the extent of the damage, the least of it being a helmet and now a gun, Amelia sighed. "Sorry, dude," she had the grace to look a bit embarrassed. "Don't worry, I'll pay for the damage."

The human looked distrustful, but he also seemed to realize it was pointless to argue with his nation and sighed dramatically. "Fine."

"You want us to help you clean this place up?"

"No!" the man started, before recovering himself. "I-I mean, no, it's cool. I got this. Th-thanks for coming." His smile was strained.

Smiling brightly, glad she didn't have to actually clean up anything, Amelia grabbed Russia's arm and started to drag him away. "Okay, thanks! Just send me the bill!" she called over her shoulder, making sure she had a firm hold on the large man's hand so he wouldn't try anything funny.

Not bothering to change, the two nations dressed in their green and black clothing that had helped them blend in to the dark room, that America had _insisted _they wear, they grabbed their bags with their regular clothing inside. Russia had wanted to change, not liking the red paint that had gotten on his shirt in some places, but Amelia talked him out of it. Instead, looking like A-Team rejects, Amelia even sporting an American flag bandana wrapped around her head, they walked out of the paintballing building stiffly, hand in hand.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" the blonde broke the silence, her voice filled with hope.

Russia, still looking a bit put out, pouted a bit before finally nodding. "_Da_. _Da, _it was fun…even though you must have cheated."

Crushing his hand in hers, feeling that perhaps this hand holding thing wasn't so bad after all since it could also be used as punishment, the girl snorted. "Says the man who fired prematurely."

"Please!" Ivan turned mock-horrified eyes to the girl. "Don't tell anyone _that _or I will be forced to tell them you're a dirty liar."

Realizing her mistake, Amelia blushed spectacularly before she gave the Slav a sound smack on the arm. "Sh-shut up," she muttered. "That's not what I meant."

Ivan, on the other hand, found it hysterical and laughed, lightly squeezing the blonde's hand lovingly as he beamed. "Oh, _Amerika_~" his voice was songlike, "You are so cute when you're so stupid."

The blonde muttered under her breath about stupid fat commies, but she didn't say anything else. After all, despite their fight at the paintball area, Amelia had to admit, it had been fun. Being able to play rough like that was very rare, no one else really being able to withstand her power. But Russia could, and he could give it right back, which was always fun. And, even though they were dating, America had to admit, it was pretty funny to watch Russia get angry. It was just bonus that there was no longer a threat of nuclear war.

"Soooooo," she drawled, sending a sweet smiling the Russian's way, "What are we doing now? You coming to my house or what?"

The Russian paused in thought. "_Nyet_, I need to get back to the hotel. I need to speak with my ambassador for a while."

"Oh." Well that sucked. Amelia had been hoping to spend as much time with her Russian as possible. It had been a lot of work to make excuses for bring him to the States again, and even more to get him out of D.C. so they could paintball. And don't get her started on the excuses and planning she'd had to do get the Russian ambassador to come out here as well!

The older nation seemed to notice the blonde's change in attitude, as he squeezed her hand lightly. "It will only be for a few hours. Then I will go to your house and we can do what you'd like for the remainder of the evening, _da_?"

Amelia shrugged, trying to raise her spirits as she gave a small smile. "Okay. Sounds good. You'll text me when you're done, right? So I can expect you?"

"Of course," Ivan smiled.

They walked down the street together in silence after that, still holding hands. Amelia had gotten more used to the idea of this concept, had seen other people do it, but she was still a little wary of the public display. As of yet, no one had commented upon it in either Moscow or here in the little Indiana town they had gotten away to for the weekend so they could paintball and not have to worry about the media. It was always nice to spend time inland, in her small, almost forgotten little towns, and she was glad for the chance to show Ivan her more rural side as opposed to the hurry, hustle and bustle of the city all the time.

The hotel in the small town was certainly nothing fancy, just a Holiday Inn, but that seemed fine with the Slav, who had _comfortingly _said he'd been in worse. So, as he went inside to face his disgruntled ambassador, Amelia picked up her car that she'd left in the parking lot, and drove to the small house that she rented when she came out. It was about twenty minutes from town and out in the country, were she could overlook the fields, whether they be corn, beans, or hay.

As she drove, she flipped on the radio and searched the many stations for a good song to sing along with. Of course, she considered pretty much all of the music her country produced as good, but she wanted something a little different today, something classic. Her hand stalled on one station as the Beatles came on. She smiled softly, remembering the _huge _obsession she'd had over the band when they first came to the US, and took her hand from the dial.

Speeding down the backcountry roads at nearly seventy miles an hour, not another car in sight, Amelia rolled the windows down and turned the radio up. Her car was a red streak as it flew down the empty, narrow roads, singing _Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da_ as loudly as she could, merely because there was no one around to tell her not to. It was exhilarating, driving like this. It was the closest thing to true freedom she felt nowadays.

After the Beatles, it was her lucky day when _Welcome to the Jungle _began blasting, taking the place of the happy little British number to the full fledged, hardcore, American rock. Turning it up even louder, Amelia began screaming along with Axl Rose. It was only luck that the song ended as soon as she pulled in the lane of her house.

As she got out of the car, happy once more, feeling exhilarated, the blonde danced around as she walked up the steps to the old farmhouse and opened the door. The home was kept clean and tidy, only needing dusting whenever she visited, which she'd taken care of when she'd arrived yesterday. Smiling, she threw her bag down near the kitchen table and got a glass of water. Still humming the rock tune, she danced around the kitchen, completely carefree. She didn't always like being alone, but in the solitude, she could always bask in unabated freedom, not having to worry about anyone else mocking her or laughing. It was just her, and she was happy, free to express herself in any way she felt.

So it was completely understandable when she screamed at hearing a cough from behind her. "AAAAAHHHH!" she shrieked, spinning around with wide, terrified eyes. "A-Artie?"

England stood in the doorway of the old farmhouse, looking a bit uncomfortable as he had awkwardly watched his little sister's embarrassing dance. "Ah…hello, Amelia. May I come in?" he asked, hands firmly clasped behind his back.

Trying to calm her racing heart, the blonde girl nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment. It was only when the Englishman was comfortable seated at the table, did Amelia find her voice. "What are you doing here, Artie?"

The elder nation looked a little embarrassed, this being the first time since they had really talked since America had hooked up with Russia after the disastrous bet. Apparently realizing this, Arthur held out a dozen roses to his little sister. He mumbled something about them being for her, and Amelia took them, automatically going to search for a vase in the cabinet. Once she found one, she filled it with water, cut the ends of the stems on the flowers, before putting them in the vase.

As she walked over to the table, she placed the vase in the center, taking a moment to admire the blood red roses, her national flower. While she could party it up as much as any other girl, Amelia still loved her farmland, still loved the wild, untamed beauty of the woods, as much as the concrete jungle. She adored plants, even now, and kept quite a few back at her apartment in D.C. in her office and bedroom. Getting flowers was always a nice gift for her, and even though she still felt a bit frustrated with her elder brother for his involvement in the bet over a year ago now, even tried to _date her,_ she realized that it was in the past, and whatever his reasons for his involvement, she still loved him, and he was sorry. It took a lot for England to apologize, and he did that already.

Sitting down across from the island, Amelia smiled a bit, to try and put the man at ease. "So," she drawled, wishing the awkwardness away. "What are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?"

The man looked panicked for just a split second, like he got caught peeping in the neighbor's house, before his radiant green eyes calmed. "Ah, well, you left that message on your answering machine. About being '_Back Home Again in Indiana'_?"

Amelia blinked before laughing. "Haha, I guess I did do that, huh? How clever of me," she giggled. She always loved it when she didn't remember how brilliantly funny she was. It meant she was just a natural.

"Yes, well," the Englishman frowned, apparently not approving of her self-praise. "I actually came here to speak with you, Amelia," he went on promptly.

His tone of voice had the younger nation cringing. She knew where this was going. "Stop right there, Arthur," her voice was hard. "I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to hear it."

"No, you don't know what I'm going to say," the other snapped, annoyed at being interrupted. "I came here to…to…" he faltered, looking uncomfortable now that his irritation had apparently paused. "Apologize," he managed to get out.

Amelia's frown stopped as she stared at her former caretaker disbelievingly. He was apologizing? To her? Again? "Why?" America couldn't keep the surprise or the suspicion out of her voice.

Red stained the Englishman's cheeks as he averted his eyes away from his little sister. "You know…for my…involvement in that foolish bet."

Amelia's eyes softened and a small smile came back to her face. "Artie, you don't have to. You already did."

"But I didn't manage to in person," he said seriously, taking her hand in his, squeezing it.

His hand was nothing like Ivan's, Amelia realized. She had never stopped to think that hands could be so different, but they were. Arthur's hands were just a tad larger than her own, the hands smoothed over the old calluses that had once been there, the sign of all of his hard work mostly gone. They were the hands of a gentleman. They were a bit clammy, though, reflecting his nation's weather, but there was a certain comfort to them, one that took America back to a time when she had been a tiny colony, rushing to see her big brother once he docked at the harbor in Virginia, wanting nothing more than to be held, to be loved by the elder nation that had taken care of her.

Ivan's hands were much different than the island nation's. The Russian's hands nearly completely dwarfed the American's, and they were not clammy, but completely cold. The large hands were much rougher, calloused and scarred from too many cues, too many fights, too much hard labor. The backs of Ivan's hands were hairy, too, thick, but it offered no warmth to his icy exterior. It was little wonder why he preferred to wear gloves most of the time, but he hadn't lately, not since dating her, she realized, probably so she could become used to him as he was. It was strangely touching, knowing that he wanted to hide nothing from her.

His hands offered comfort, the same as Arthur's, only different. A special, protective hold that let her know she wasn't alone. It was strong, desirous, something frightening, yet wonderful at the same time. These two very important men in her life, similar, yet so vastly dissimilar. It was strange to think that she could tell so much from just a simple touch of a hand now.

Coming out of her reserve, Amelia smiled up at her former caretaker. "It's all right, Artie. I've forgiven you already, you know."

The island smiled. "I'm glad to hear it…But I still wanted to apologize, Amelia. I didn't know that one simple comment I'd made would turn into such a mess." He shook his head in disgust. "I participated to keep an eye on events. I couldn't let anyone take advantage of you, especially that froggy bastard," he growled contemptuously.

Rolling her eyes, Amelia smiled. "Yeah, that would've been…interesting."

"Indeed," he nodded, but paused, as though not sure where to go from there. It made the girl a bit uncomfortable. "That being said," he pressed on cautiously, "what is the nature of yours and Russia's relations?"

America sighed in distaste. "Ugh, I _knew _you were going to bring this up," she frowned, not wanting to talk about it. It was embarrassing enough to have to think about her relationship to herself, but to discuss it with someone else? It was horrifying.

"I have a right to know, Amelia," Arthur scowled, looking too much like a parent for his sister's comfort.

"I'm old enough to know what I'm doing, Arthur," she scowled back. "My personal relationships are my own business, so I don't know what makes you think you have the right to come snooping into my business."

"I am not _snooping, _I'm…" he trailed off, before pinching the bridge of his nose, a sign he was trying to quiet his anger. "Listen, Amelia, I just want to know," he looked up pleadingly, taking her hand again. It reminded her uncomfortably when they had tried to work out her revolution without resorting to fighting. "Please, just tell me what Russia is to you."

Frowning, Amelia looked away from the sparkling green eyes to stare resolutely at the roses in front of her. A peace offering, she realized, a bribe, not just an apology. An interrogation. "We're dating," she replied crisply, steeling herself for the explosion sure to follow.

But it never did.

Peeking up after a few seconds when there was no reply, Amelia found herself staring into troubled green eyes. They didn't look angry, like she'd thought they would, just upset and worried. It threw her.

England took a deep breath, as though to compose himself before he nodded slowly. "Dating," he repeated much too evenly. It freaked Amelia out. "I see. And Russia…he didn't…_force _you into anything, did he?"

Thoughts of over a month back, to when the Slav had _sat on her _in what had been _his _gesture of romance, and how he had grabbed the back of her neck so that she couldn't get away as he kissed her, sprang up in the blonde's mind. It had been terrifying, yet exhilarating at the same time, as new feelings and desires had sprang up in her mind, confusing her, blinding her to what had actually been going on. It had only been when that one final, powerful surge of panic had built up that Amelia had managed to get away from the Russian who had excited, yet scared her.

Had he been pressuring her? Technically yes, but after she had calmed down, she had realized that he hadn't meant anything bad by it. Ivan's idea of playfulness was certainly different than her own in ways, and he had just been trying to take their relationship to the next level…though the level he had wanted was too high for her, she could admit. But despite his pressure, he hadn't really _forced _himself on her. After all, she had let him get as far as he did, allowed him to put his arm around her, allowed him to keep his hold on her neck, allowed him to kiss her. It was only when he'd sat on her that she realized she wanted no more.

Staring at her brother in shock, more from the comprehension of how much she'd permitted the Slav to do and wasn't really angry with him for doing it. "No! Of course not," she defended avidly, snapping out of her surprise. "Ivan would never do something like that."

It was Arthur's turn to look shocked, though his stemmed from disbelief. "You can't really expect me to believe that," his voice was soft, yet deathly serious. "After all of his talk of making people 'become one' with him?"

"Ivan hasn't done anything," Amelia said more firmly, glaring at her brother.

"Then how is it that after nearly fifty years of intense hatred, that you just suddenly started dating him?"

The pleading tone in her brother's voice quieted any harsh reply she could have come up with. Was he really just this worried about her, or was he trying to control her life again? It was always hard to tell with the pushy Englishman. "Believe me, Artie," she responded at last, "I didn't just start dating him like that."

When he didn't interrupt, but looked at her expectantly, America realized that he wanted an account of how she had managed to find herself dating the one man that the rest of the world believed she hated with a passion. She didn't want to tell him just as much as she did want to tell him. Any chance she got to talk about herself to others, it being their own idea, was the best and so rare she dared not pass the chance by.

So, taking a deep breath, knowing she was going to have to admit to some things, she began her tale. "Well, you see, a few weeks after I found out about the competition, Ivan came by my place in D.C. and I told him to go away after I realized it was him."

England snorted. "What made him think that he could harass you like that after all that had happened?" He was furious on his sister's behave, Amelia realized, but he was also woefully heading to the wrong conclusions.

"He didn't come to gloat or make fun of me," the girl snapped, happily forgetting all the insults that she and the Russian had thrown at one another that first day just because it was familiar. "He came to apologize."

"And you listened to him?" Arthur scowled. "_I _came by the day after you found out, and you wouldn't talk to _me_! Why on earth would you listen to _Russia _and not me?"

Although he was hurt by the notion, America hardened her heart to pressed on. "I _didn't _just open the door and let him in for a chat, Artie," she rolled her eyes. "He…well…he sort of broke into my house after I told him to leave."

"He _what_?"

"It was okay, though," Amelia said quickly, to calm the poor man's nerves. "I had a shotgun targeting him, so it was cool."

The European's shoulders slumped. "Where did I go wrong with you?" he muttered, but the girl chose to ignore it.

"Anyway," she proceeded. "He broke in and I started yelling at him, naturally, but he just kept apologizing to me, saying that he wasn't trying to trick me. I didn't believe him, obviously, but I realized he was being sincere. Eventually, he said he'd tell me anything I wanted to know about the bet, so I took him up on the offer. And, well, then he invited to tell me over lunch." England stared at her incredulously. "Don't give me that!" Amelia blushed. "I was hungry! So, we went out, argued more, he bought me food, told me a little about the competition, argued _more_ and then…then his heart fell out."

The elder nation sighed. "So you took pity on him because his heart fell out? Amelia, it does that _all _the time!"

"No, it doesn't!" she huffed. "And anyway, I didn't 'take pity' on him. He said a lot of stuff that I knew was true, realized that I was being selfish, and we got to talking nicely. Afterwards, we toured around the monuments and eventually went to dinner." She paused, thinking back to that fun evening when it had just been the two of them, laughing, singing and dancing around Union Station, talking and just being friends.

"Well," she went on, forcing herself from the memory, "after that, we just sortta…had fun." She shrugged. "We walked around some more, talked about stuff, and then he walked me home. Afterwards, I called him up the next day and we had an early lunch before he had to get back to Moscow, and we…we sortta decided to be…a couple," she admitted, a blush standing out against her skin.

"Just like that?" England looked sadly upon his old charge. "It sounds like he just bribed you with food, Amelia."

"No!" America snorted. "We talked about some really deep things that night, and the next morning he admitted that he liked me. And…well, I liked him, so we're dating now."

"You liked him?" the island questioned skeptically.

The girl blushed harder. "Yes."

"You?" the other pressed. "The girl who would call me up in the middle of the night, complaining and ranting about the 'stupid commie bastard' and how much you hated him? How much you wished you could just go slit his throat while he was sleeping?"

The ceiling was really pretty, Amelia decided, as she stared up at it, avidly avoiding the penetrating green gaze across from her. "That was…anger talking."

"Of course it was," the Englishman snorted. "You _hated _him! Amelia, why had you decided to like him all of a sudden? If you're simply flattered that someone else finds you attractive and wants to be around you, then why on earth didn't you choose any of the men in the competition who were doing the exact same thing?"

"Why, so you could have won?" Amelia snapped, narrowing her eyes. "You have some sort of wager, wanted your pick to win?"

"That's not what I meant!" Britain defended, before he turned around for his own attack. "I'm merely pointing out that you hated Russia, but seem to be dating him only because he admitted to _liking_ you, which is in fact, exactly what all the other men did during the bet. They liked you, flattered you, did what they could, but then you turned them all down. So why? Why not pick a man that you actually liked before to try dating?"

"Because none of them were Ivan!"

The angry, frustrated exclamation hung in the air as the two sibling stared at one another. Amelia hadn't wanted to admit to her long held crush over the Slavic nation, especially not to her brother, but she had felt so anxious under his constant line of questioning that she had just snapped. She knew she was going to have to explain her meaning, admit to having liked the Russia to before her Civil War, but maybe if she did that, then Arthur would understand? Maybe he would even be happy for her?

"Listen," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I…I've liked Ivan for a…for a while now," she confessed softly. "I mean, before he was the Soviet Union, he was just so…so amazing, you know? One of the largest empires in the world, with an ancient culture, and he was just…I don't know, so put together, so gentlemanly towards me." She blushed when she remembered once when they had taken a picture together long ago, Russia's hand rested around her shoulder in a friendly manner. "He was so nice to me, and…well…" she trailed off, but stubbornly refused to look at her brother.

"It was hard when he was having trouble with his nation towards the end of the empire. And when he became communist and wanted nothing more to do with me…well, it had hurt. I was just being bitter and let people scare me into believing he was some sort of horrible monster. Admittedly, he was pretty bad under Stalin, but he got better, I just didn't want to see it. So when his heart fell out at the meeting, over a year ago, and he started being so nice to me…"

"You gave in and trusted him when he said he liked you," England finished for her, quietly.

Glancing up, Amelia discovered that her brother was looking at her sadly, pityingly. And while she hated to be pitied, it was a strange comfort to know that at least he wasn't furious with her. At least he wasn't demanding her to break up with Ivan, or lecturing her about how evil the Russian was, like he'd done when she was little. It wasn't much, but it was a start, she supposed.

Taking a deep breath, she shrugged slightly. "Yeah, I guess…a little. But I didn't just trust him so blindly," she stressed once more.

The elder nation looked up, as though praying for patience, before he sighed. "Amelia," be began evenly. "I know you're your own nation, have been for quite some time now, but that doesn't mean I stopped worry about you." America swallowed thickly. "I _know_ you can take care of yourself. I _know _you're the world Superpower, but _please_," he stared at her pleadingly, "be careful when it comes to Russia.

"I know I can't forbid you from dating him," he went on, a bitter smile ghosting his lips. "I know anything I say will only make you want to stay with him more, but I _beg _you, _be careful_," he said again, more fervently this time. "He's not a nation to be trifled with, and there's a reason why so many fear him. His human side might be nice and sweet, but his national side is anything but."

"I know," Amelia admitted. "But Ivan and I've talked and decided to keep this relationship purely personal. No politics, nationalistic stuff, just _us_. Just Amelia and Ivan."

"And can you do that?" Arthur frowned skeptically.

"We're trying," the girl nodded slowly.

Britain sighed again, looking out the window as he stood. "All right. Do what you want," he relented. "I've done all I can."

Standing up as well, Amelia walked around the table and hugged her brother tightly. "Thanks for understanding, Artie." She squeezed him harder than he probably liked. "You're a good big brother."

The Englishman patted her back awkwardly for a moment, before gradually he came to embrace her as well. "Yes, well, come on now. No need to get too clingy, eh?"

Beaming up at her brother, the larger nation laughed. "Guess not," she released the man from her bone-crushing embrace. "Oh, hey, did you want to stay for dinner? Ivan's going to be here later, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind you being around once I tell him you're cool with us dating and all."

"No thank you," the island grimaced. "I need to get going. I really have no reason for staying in Indiana longer than necessary. I'm actually going up north for a meeting in…um…you know…"

Amelia frowned. "Wisconsin?"

"No," the Brit admonished. "You know, that other country, up north?"

The girl began to panic. It was at the tip of her tongue… "You mean Mattie's place?"

"Yes!" Arthur cried, looking relieved and slightly embarrassed. "Um…what is his home called again?"

The American's face scrunched up in thought, but for the life of her, all the far north she could think of was Alaska. "…Maple-land?" she hazard a guess. "I know they have moose, and those Canadian geese."

"Yes, I remember those geese," England nodded. "Bloody hell, I wish your brother had thought of a name easier to remember. Perhaps name something after the land to make it easier to remember?"

"I know, but there's no talking to the guy. He's never around!" she sighed as she thought of her loving big brother up north that had a name harder to remember than the list of Chinese dynasties. If only he could have named himself after the Mounties. She would remember that!

"Yes, well, I need to be going if I'm going to have a shot at finding him," the island nation said crisply. "Goodbye, Amelia."

"Bye, Artie. Thanks for stopping by!" she smiled.

"Yes, well, I couldn't very well rest until I knew that that Russian wasn't plotting to just sleep with my baby sister for information, now could I?" Arthur smiled, even as America froze. "Goodbye," the Englishman called once more, before he got into his car and drove down the lane and onto the deserted country road before he was gone.

Even when her brother was gone, Amelia stood rooted in place on the porch where she had waved him off. All the relief she had felt at his understanding her situation, her love for Ivan, suddenly froze over, forming an uncomfortable knot in her stomach.

_Sleep with me for information?_ Could it be true? Is that why Ivan had so desperately wanted to make amends with her? Is that why he had been so adamant about them progressing their relationship? Is that what he was wanting all along? To sleep with her to get her to spill national secrets?

Shaking her head from the horrible thoughts that sprang up in her mind, America went inside and decided that she was being ridiculous. Artie's sense of humor was really weird, and he was probably just joking when he'd said that as he left. It wasn't true. Ivan wasn't just using her to get national secrets. If he was, why then would the Slav always so adamantly steer her away from the topics of politics when they were together?

No. Ivan wasn't using her. Ivan loved her. Amelia might not know a lot about romance, but she knew when someone was lying to her, and Ivan wasn't…Was he? No. He wasn't.

As she made dinner, waiting for her Russian to text her, Amelia let her mind wander to all her resent interactions with her boyfriend. Thus far, other than the slight pushing for a more intimate relationship, none of his actions towards her had been strange. There was nothing sinister going on, and Russia liking her wasn't some weird, left over Soviet plot. That's not why she had felt uncomfortable in Moscow, getting the strange feeling of being followed…_that _feeling had come up because she was nervous about getting caught holding hands…Right?

"Ugh!" Amelia snarled, cutting into the innocent potatoes. "Stop psyching yourself out, girl," she commanded harshly, before continuing with dinner. Her phone buzzed, alerting her that Ivan was on his way, and she forced herself to smile. Good, Ivan was on his way, and when he got here, they could have a nice night and _not _think about the possibilities of betrayal.

Twenty minutes later found the Slav lumbering into the house. He smiled brightly when he saw the blonde. "Hello, _Kalinka_," he started before pausing. "Are you all right?"

"Huh?" Amelia turned around, eyes wide, like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Y-yeah, why?"

The Russian frowned, stepping into the house further, walking towards his busy little girl friend as she cooked. "You are looking pale…and you haven't changed from your paintballing clothes."

Blinking, Amelia looked down. "O-oh, guess not. Haha, how forgetful."

Ivan didn't seem convinced, but let it go and walked into the living room to put his stuff away. And once he was out of the kitchen, the blonde sighed, allowing her shoulders to sag. What was she going to do? He _definitely _knew something was up, but she couldn't tell him what Arthur had said. Of _course _he would deny it! But she tried her best to rally her spirits. After all, there was no proof Ivan was just using her, and had very strong marks in his favor.

England was just joking, the blonde decided resolutely, and went about finishing the meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and green beans. A nice local farmer had given her some of his fresh crop when he'd learned she was coming out, to which America was very grateful. That's why she loved coming here, because the people were so nice and giving. It was just a bonus that she had some farm fresh vegetables that she could feed Ivan, so he could experience an _authentic _American meal.

When the big man trudged back into the room, he smiled warmly at her before sitting down at the table. "It smells wonderful," he complimented. "So very much better than McDonalds."

"Don't be dissing Ronald," Amelia scolded seriously, frowning at her boyfriend, before brightening considerably once the compliment seeped into her brain. "But thanks!" she bubbled. "No one fries chicken like…well, the Colonel, but me too!" she proclaimed proudly as she began setting out the food on the table. "Crap! Forgot to set the table first," she mused, biting her lip thoughtfully.

"I will do that," Russia offered, that warm smile he'd developed when around her never leaving his face. "You can go change out of your dirty clothes."

The blonde laughed. "And that's why I keep you around," she winked playfully. "Be right back!"

So, the Superpower bounced up the stairs quickly to her room and peeled off her paintballing clothes. The smell of fried chicken reached her nostrils, and her mouth watered. Why did she have to be such an awesome cook all the time? Not wanting to waste time putting on a separate shirt and pants, the blonde grabbed a short summer dress and put it over her head before running back down the stairs. She was so excited to eat! Cooking really was such an agonizing event when the food was just too damn delicious!

When she entered the room, Russia had managed to find everything and set it out. He even filled their glasses with water. When he turned to look at her, however, her hair messy, sticking up everywhere having fallen out of the ponytail she'd had when she'd been changing, and her raggedy little summer dress, his amethyst eyes widened. For just a moment, Amelia cursed her impatience suddenly feeling self-conscience under that Slav's scrutinizing gaze. She looked terrible, she knew, yet it was too late now, he'd seen her and that chicken was really too yummy smelling to be ignored any longer.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she walked past him, blushing, as she went to sit at the other side of the table. She looked like a rugrat compared to him in his nice, tailored business suit, but she tried not to let that bother her too much. Instead of focusing on her embarrassment, she sat down across from the Russian, before she began helping herself. Ivan followed suit a moment later.

Even as she ate, the blonde could feel the other's intense gaze resting on her, and every time she looked up, he was staring at her. "What?" she finally couldn't take it. "I know, my hair's probably everywhere."

"It is," Ivan agreed contentedly, smiling dazzlingly in a way that slightly irked the American. "But I was noticing your flowers. They are lovely," he complimented. "Did you pick them?"

"Oh, no," Amelia turned her own gaze towards her peace offering. "Arthur gave them to me."

"England?" Russia's voice darkened slightly.

"Yeah," Amelia worked quickly to make up for her mistake. "He sent them to me. As an apology, for the bet? He still felt bad about it," she explained. Ivan really didn't need to know that the island had been here.

"I see," the Slav said slowly in a way that made the blonde a bit uncomfortable. "Well, that was nice of him…Did he send you a card? Is that why you were upset?"

Thanking God for the perfect excuse, Amelia nodded. "Yeah, sortta…I don't really want to talk about it, though."

"I see," Russia said again, looking thoughtful, before turning his attention back to his home cooked meal.

Together, the couple ate their meals before happier topics of conversation were brought up. The more she listened and spoke to the Russian, laughing at his jokes, agreeing with his ideas, the more at ease Amelia became around her boyfriend again. As she took him outside after supper to play in the backyard, hitting a ball around in strange perversion of volleyball and soccer, and later to catch fireflies at dusk, the more ridiculous England's words became. Ivan wasn't there doing all sorts of childish games with her because he was spying, it was because he loved her.

So when they said goodnight and goodbye to one another, and when Russia initiated a hug, despite feeling a bit uncomfortable with the gesture she had only received from her brothers, Amelia rebelled against her elder brother's warning and allowed the contact, even hugged back, marveling at just how broad and thick her Russian man actually was, and powerful. He smelled of earth, melting snow, and just a hint of vodka, as well as leather and sweat. She decided she liked the smell, and smiled to herself while her arms were around his middle.

When he was gone, still smiling, Amelia cleaned up the kitchen before going to bed, wishing that Ivan hadn't had to go, yet knowing she would have been uncomfortable if he'd stayed the night. Sighing, she changed into the pajamas after a hot shower, and crawled into bed. She smiled as she remembered the nightly events and thanked the powers that she had someone like Ivan to call on her. England's warning was pushed to the dark corners of her mind.

But it was not forgotten.

* * *

**Author's Note: **England, what have you done? D: Trouble before it could ever be paradise. :/

**Observations:** If you didn't catch it, _Welcome to the Jungle _is probably the most famous song by Guns and Roses. "Ronald" is of course reference to Ronald McDonald, and "the Colonel" is Colonel Sanders of KFC.

And if you were all wondering, "Why the heck are they in Indiana?" One: so I could use the song, "Back Home Again in Indiana" and Two: I'm from Indiana. I was just having fun and gave a small shout out to my home state, known only for the Speedway and corn. :/

**Russian: **_Yo moyo-_Ё моё- (like) Holy shit! *** Really this expression has a lot of different meanings depending on the context, or so I'm told, but it's apparently a form of curse without a real translation. _Do Svidaniya, moy droog-_ До свидания друг мой- Goodbye, my friend.

'**Nother Note: **Well, England's been busy working to ruin everything, wonder what Belarus is working on? Please drop me a review on your way out as I'd love to hear from you all. :) And thanks for all the kind words so far! You're all the best readers ever! :D


	4. Chapter 4: Siblings Against Love

**Chapter Four: Siblings Against Love**

After Russia got back to his own land, he began feeling more and more annoyed with Great Britain. True, the island nation hadn't done anything to him personally, not for a long time, but he was still growing furious with the Brit. Since getting back from America, Ivan noticed that his little blonde girlfriend was acting…strangely.

Granted, Amelia was strange by nature, her wild ideas and craziness were commonplace and had actually been part of the reason the Slav was attracted to her, but this time…this time it was different. Ivan wasn't sure how, but those flowers England had sent to Amelia were connected into all this. After she had gotten those roses, she had seemed a bit distant, despite the growing connection they were having. True, Amelia had hugged him before he'd left, but even though that hug was a great, hard earned victory, a part of Ivan believed it had been forced. He didn't want Amelia to force herself to do anything in this relationship. He wanted her to like him for him, and she was started to get tense, like she was no longer comfortable with him, and it all had _something _to do with those damn roses!

The western nation hadn't told him what exactly her talk with her brother had been about, if indeed they had actually really talked or if he just sent a message along with the flowers, but somehow the island had gotten under America's skin. That was _Russia's _job, he didn't want to give the pleasure to anyone else. No one else should be messing with the blonde's head but Ivan.

The large personification sat back in his office chair in his home in Novosibirsk. He had gone to Siberia for a while to check up on businesses there and to make his annual tour of his land. It was hard staying in just the western half of his land most of the time when he was indeed so large. It was nice to get out and get a change of culture, to go into the part of himself that wasn't western, but wasn't really eastern. It was in Siberia that Ivan had always felt the uniqueness of his situation the most.

But at the moment, the big man could not relax, not when he pondered over Amelia's troubling behavior. It really wasn't like she was acting much different than before, except everything she did now, all of the affection she showed seemed forced. She had hugged him last time she'd seen him, and even though he had loved it, it had been a big step for her, it wasn't right. Their conversations on the phone were great, she was just as funny and charmingly ignorant as always, yet she seemed to forcenicknames on him, like _dear_ or _honey,_ or Ivan's least favorite, _babe_. He shuddered when he'd heard her call him that. He was _not _a baby, nor did he like anyone else trying to insinuate as such. Babies were not powerful creatures, they did not rule vast amounts of land, nor did they control armies. Ivan still had his dignity and he needed to keep the respect he had. What would people think of him if they heard America call him _babe_? He'd made her promised never to call him that again.

This forcedness in their relationship had to end, and the source of such forcedness had something to do with England and those damn flowers! Ivan just knew it. America was by nature a rebellious spirit, and something England had said must have triggered that unwillingness to do as told, thereby causing the American to push herself into doing what she didn't feel comfortable with doing yet, like calling Ivan a pet name, or even hugging. The Slav did not want this relationship to be forced. He'd wanted Amelia to feel comfortable with him enough that she just automatically _wanted _to show such affection. And because of something England had done, she was pushing too much and it would ultimately harm their relationship that they were building.

Looking over at the clock, the numbers read nine in the morning. Quickly calculating the time difference, Ivan picked up his phone and dialed. It rang several times before someone picked up on the other end. The Russian waited patiently as the other phone was fumbled around as rustling noise came over on the other end. Finally, after about a minute of scrabbling and a slight curse, the phone was properly answered. "What the hell are you calling me at this time of night, wanker? I told you not to call me at night unless it was important, Amelia!" came the still sleep-laden cranky voice of the Englishman.

Smiling evil, Russia snorted. "This is not my dear _Kalinka, _though I do wish to speak of her with you."

Ivan could just imagine the Brit sitting straight up in his bed, eyes wide. "Russia? What the hell do _you_ want?" a note of panic entered the blonde's voice, though he probably didn't want Russia to hear that.

"Like I said," the big man drawled lazily. "I want to talk about Amelia."

A long pause was had over the other end. "What is there to talk about? Did you do something to my sister, you bastard?"

"No, _I _did nothing," the Slav's voice grew hard, angry. "But I was wondering if you'd like to tell me what _you've _done."

Another long silence. "I… don't know what you're talking about," the other defended stiffly.

"Of course you don't," Ivan muttered darkly. "I know you've done something to her, said something to her," he pressed. "Whatever it is you've done, I don't care, but you will _not _interfere with my courting Amelia anymore."

"I never gave you permission to court my sister!" Britain screeched instantly, nearly shattering the Russian's eardrums. "I have every right to stop you from getting involved with her! You're no good, and she's too young to be caught up in a senseless, needless romance with a man that she's spent nearly a complete century despising!"

"And I don't see how you think Amelia dating anyone is your business since she's had complete and total independence from you for over _two _centuries!"

Silence.

"Listen," Russia snapped, feeling suddenly exasperated. "I know you did something to her the other day, and I know that you're the reason she's been acting strangely. Whatever you did before, _don't _do it again. Stay out of our affairs. If you don't, I am not afraid to start a conflict with you," he threatened seriously.

"You wouldn't do anything of the sort," the Brit hissed. "And I will _not _stop watching out for my baby sister. She has no business being with you at all! You're hundredsof years older than her, and she's hated you for a third of the few she's lived."

"Stay out of our affairs, Britain," Russia growled, the room turning cold. "Or I will come over to your home _immediately _and snap both of your legs!"

"If Amelia really was smart, she'd have listened to reason and stop this ill-fated romance," England pressed on, apparently more angry than frightened with the Slav. A dangerous mistake.

"Are you listening to me?" Ivan snarled. "Stay out of my relationship with Amelia, or I will tear out your spine and beat you with it!"

Without waiting for a reply, Russia slammed his phone shut, absolutely livid. How dare that stupid little island think that he could get away with interfering in his relationship with America. How dare that short little man believe that he had a right to mess in his sister's affairs, or Ivan's for that matter. Britain might have had the largest empire in the world at one point, but that didn't give him the right to go snooping about in other people's business.

Leaning back in his chair, furious, he crossed his arms, trying to think of a way that he could get rid of his anger. He looked at the corner and saw his old pipe. Without really thinking much, he picked it up and began hitting it against his palm, wishing he had something to bang it against. A cruel smile came to his lips and he nearly called out for Latvia, but then he remembered that the Soviet Union had been dispersed years ago, and that he no longer had his territories or satellite nations to pick on. How unfortunate. They had always been excellent sources of stress relief.

Standing up, the Slav thought that perhaps he could go find something to hit and smash to take the tension off, and stormed towards the door. He threw open the door, only to jump in surprise, letting out a terrified scream when he came face to furious face with his little sister. Her dark blue eyes were almost black.

"_Yoshkin kot_!" he yelped, taken completely off guard, stepping back. "N-Natalia, w-what are you d-doing here?" he tried to plaster on a smile, but was pretty sure it came out looking more like a wince than anything.

The girl's scowled darkened if that were possible, and the larger personification gulped, taking another step back, his survival instincts kicking in. "We need to talk, big brother," her voice was a low hiss.

Paling, Ivan tried his best to think of something to do, something to say, and gave an uneasy giggle. "Hehe, um, n-now is not a good time, Natalia," he shook his head quickly. "W-why not come back in a little bit when—"

A single cold, steely hand shot out and latched onto his arm, effectively paralyzing the Russian as he stared into the very eyes of death before him. He let out a cry of surprise, wishing that he could find his spine. "_Now_," was all the girl had to say and Ivan knew he could not refuse her.

Belarus, with her claws on Russia, dragged the poor man back into his office, slamming the door behind her loudly. Ivan began shaking almost uncontrollably, barely noticing that his sister's fingernails were cutting into his skin in his terror. She led him back over to his desk and pushed him behind it. "Sit," she commanded, her voice hard, angry. Ivan obeyed instantly, watching as his little sister sat on the other side, still scowling. He gulped.

"W-what can I d-do for you, _syestra_?" he asked with a customary, hallow smile, praying to God that she was just mad about something minor and had _not _heard his telephone conversation with Britain. _Please_ let her not have heard any of that!

The girl almost snarled as she stared daggers at her older brother. "I know," she said simply, sitting painfully still and upright.

Russia nearly fainted. "Haha…kn-know what, _s-syestra_?"

The younger nations looked close to murder, her body completely tense, yet she stayed stone still. It unnerved the large Slav more than he would have liked to admit. "Do not play games with me_, vialiki_ _brat_," she hissed. "I know about her."

Again, to try and keep himself conscience, Ivan let out another nervous giggle. "Wh-who are you talking about, Natalia?" He began squirming under her hard expression.

Natalia suddenly stood up, knocking over her chair, as she leaned in over the desk, screaming, "You know who! _Amerika_!"

This time Ivan felt himself beginning to black out, the edges of his vision beginning to darken, but he fought to keep himself conscious. He hadn't felt this bad since he'd been shot several times in World War II in the head, chest, and lung. He knew he had absolutely no color in his face since his whole body seemed cold and numb, and perhaps that was the best thing that could have happened to him at the moment. He didn't necessarily want to feel anything when dealing with an enraged Belarusian.

Forcing his brain to work, to think, Ivan tried to come up with a story that would be believed by his younger sister. "_A-Amerika_?" he forced words to come out of his mouth. "What d-does she have t-to do with anything?" He hoped his sister didn't see how he squirmed.

No such luck. Natalia narrowed her eyes irately. "She has to do with _everything_," the girl spat. "I know about her seducing you. I knowthat you are in some sort of…_relationship_ with her." There was a bitterness in her voice that pulled at Ivan's heartstrings, knowing that he was causing her pain, even if she was scaring the shit out of him.

"N-no, no, Natalia! You must have misunderstood!" he cried. He didn't particularly like having to lie to his sister, not only because she usually knew when he was and when he wasn't, but because he did love her. But in this case, by lying, he could not only protect himself and Amelia from the wrath of the infuriated Belarusian, but he hope also to protect his little sister from heartache. "A-America and I are merely becoming…closer politically," he wracked his brain to think of something believable…but it wasn't working very well. "We are getting to be better friends, is all…"

The younger nation glared, obviously not buying it, and before Ivan could try again, she lifted up what looked like a rolled up magazine. Briefly Ivan wondered why he hadn't noticed before, but he assumed being engulfed in complete and total terror might have had something to do with it. Without pomp, Belarus threw the glossy magazine on the desk between them, looking not only livid, but sad, disappointed.

Feeling horrible for causing his little sister anguish — even if she caused him heart attacks and insomnia more than seventy percent of the time— Ivan reached out and unrolled the magazine, staring at it cautiously. Upon seeing the big, flashy headlines all neatly laid out in Belarusian, however, grabbed his attention instantly, and nearly caused him to fall out of his seat. How could this be happening?

There, on the cover of the magazine, blown up into incriminating evidence, was a photo of him and America, holding hands, walking through the streets of Moscow, just coming out of St. Basil's Cathedral, smiling and laughing gaily. _Romance in the Streets of Moscow_! one snippet on the cover read. _Blooming Love in the New World! _said another. _Cold War: Political Battle of Ideals or Scandalous Sexual Tensions? The REAL Story of the Fifty Year Struggle. _

Absolutely sick with horror, Ivan tore open the magazine to the main article and to his further dismay, saw a lengthy story, detailing and speculating his relationship with Amelia, complete with photos from not only their date in Moscow, but there time in Indiana as well, from the paintball arena to walking back to the hotel. Amethyst eyes quickly scanned over some of the story, and the more he read, the more ill he felt. For one moment, he seriously thought he was going to throw up.

The story was almost completely a lie. The details of the story were made up, to be sure, of how Russia and America came to be together. The main idea was that the two former Cold War Superpowers were now sleeping with one another, but there was no knowledge of if they were actually a couple or not. There was speculation within the article of just who must have seduced who first, though the Belarusian who had written the article was not so subtly hinting that the western nation was at fault for this development. _The importation of American ideas and culture have long been sneaking into the east, as it seems its personification has as well_.

To completely the scandalous lies about the relationship between Russia and America, there were even polls and a place where readers were interviewed for their opinions on the matter. _Was the Cold War merely the result of sexual tensions between the Superpowers?: 83% yes. 15% no. 2% unsure. _Ivan's hands began shaking terribly. _Who seduced who?: 96% America seduced Russia. 3% Russia seduced America. 1% Neither: It was mutual. _Ivan didn't bother reading the opinions of the humans that had written in. He didn't think he could stomach it at the moment.

Setting down the magazine, the large nation looked up at his sister, face pale, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. "Th-this is _not _true!" he gasped out, still in shock over what he had seen. He stared down at a particular picture of he and Amelia sitting down, laughing in Café Pushkin while they were eating dessert. How had they gotten this picture? _Who _had taken this picture?

Belarus was looking almost as white as her older brother, and even though she still looked beyond furious, there were tears standing out in her dark blue eyes, instantly making the elder nation feel guilty for causing her distress. "Do not lie to me, _brat_, I know it is," she muttered, not meeting his eyes.

"_Nyet! Nyet_, this is _not _true!" Ivan was up and out of his chair in a second, wrapping his arm around his distressed little sister. If Natalia was nearly in tears then he knew that she was suffering. "Whoever wrote this article did not understand _anything_ that is really going on between myself and _Amerika_."

Turning sharp eyes onto her brother, pinning Ivan in place, Natalia grabbed a hold of his hand in that painful grip of hers. "Then what _is _going on between you and _Amerika_?" she asked quietly, desperately.

Of course he was not in the clear yet, and inwardly, Russia cursed a bit for having gotten so close to his sister that she could cling on to him and he could no longer escape from her if the need arose. "N-nothing, I told you!" his voice was nearly pleading. "America and I are just re-patching our old friendship, is all…" he trailed off lamely, almost wincing at how fake the excuse sounded.

Apparently, Natalia wasn't buying it either. "Don't lie to me, big brother," she snapped. "I saw the pictures. Having better relations with another nation does not require handholding."

Ivan did wince this time. "Y-you know how eccentric America can be," he shrugged, sounding completely unconvincing.

"Don't _lie _to me!" she cried again, more dangerously upset this time. "I _heard _your conversation with Britain!"

A thick silence fell upon the two, as Ivan stared at his sister in horror once more. His worst fears had been realized. There was no way he could pass off this magazine as merely crap and photoshop that some bored people had thrown together in order to make "news". No, now that she'd heard himtalking to England about keeping out of his and Amelia's relationship, there was no way he could deny all these other outrageous lies. She had even heard him threatenEngland with bodily harm too. If there was anything more incriminating, he couldn't think of anything at the moment.

Swallowing, Russia just stared at his sister helplessly. Instinct told him to run, but her nails digging into his skin and her fingers laced around his arm was a clear indication that he wasn't about to get away from her. She wanted answers, and Heaven help him, he was going to tell her what she wanted to know or face her wrath.

It had always surprised Ivan how sweet and adorable his little sister looked, how kind and helpful she could be, and yet she had a darker side that just scared the shit out of him. That's not to say that he himself didn't have a darker side, that he'd never embraced the throws of insanity, but Belarus…she was different. It wouldn't be so very bad dealing with her if Ivan didn't know that her most fervent dream was to marry him. Brother and sisters should _not _love in that manner, and it scared him to think of it.

When had she developed this fatal flaw? When she had been younger she'd always been protective of him, as he had been of her, and he had to admit that she had always vied for his attention, jealous when she didn't get it, but he'd always written it off as simply a sibling wanting their brother to notice and love them. That sort of thing was common amongst humans, so why would Belarus be different? It had only been when Natalia had finally grown into a young woman that she began demanding that her brother marry her, and mixing that with her inability to take "no" for an answer…well, it never boded well for Russia.

Still trembling, Ivan decided that perhaps it was just time to man up. He'd lived in fear of his little sister for _years _now, always too scared to tell her that he just wasn't interested in her like that, that while he loved her, it would never be more than platonic. So, knowing that he was possibly dooming himself to physical torture, or worse, risking Amelia's life, the elder sibling knew what he had to do. "Natalia…I…me and America…" he faltered, trying to think of the best possible way to admit to his dealing with the western nation. "We're…_seeing _each other."

He winced as her nails dug into his skin farther, and her eyes welled up with more tears, tears that actually began spilling down her cheeks. He felt terrible. "W-why?" her voice was barely above a whisper.

Feeling his heart wrench at the sight of his beloved baby sister crying, Ivan tried to wrap his arm around her again, allowing her to keep the one she held prisoner. "Because America and I…well, we just decided to give it a try," he shrugged slightly, not knowing how to admit to everything that had happened between them. Their romance was complicated and not so easy to put into words. They still bickered, they still fought and roughhoused, still insulted each other, and still did not politically get along, and yet they liked each other all the same. How could he possible put into words the strangeness of their relationship in a way that would make sense to his little sister, who did not know much or any of the strange contest that had begun over a year ago that had ultimately brought them together?

"Why?" Natalia cried, looking up to her brother frantically. "You _hate _her, big brother! Why would you want to date that _whore_?" Russia stiffened at the insult against Amelia. "How could you have let her seduce you like that?"

"Amelia is _not _a whore, Natalia," Ivan said sternly, a bit angrily, hardening his eyes. The younger nation gasped slightly. "And Amelia never once seduced me. In fact, I…I'm the one who…who sought her out," he admitted, cringing inwardly at his sister's shocked, furious expression. But he couldn't back out now. If he and Amelia were ever going to get anywhere in their relationship it would probably be a good idea to let Amelia know she wasn't going to be stabbed to death by his little sister. He might be more terrified at the moment then he'd ever been in his entire existence, but this was not just about him, he realized, this was also about Amelia. He was doing this for her.

Coming out of her stupor at the confession, Natalia shook her head, her long platinum locked falling into her face slightly. "B-but I don't un-understand!" she grasped onto her brother tighter, as though being closer to him would allow her to see his point of view better. "You never liked her before!"

Biting the inside of his cheek against the pain his sister was causing him as well as holding back his fear, willing himself to be stern, Ivan shook his head. "Times have changed, Natalia. Nations change. _People _change. I…America and I have both changed a lot lately and we…we're not _so _very different from one another."

"Yes you are!" Belarus cried desperately. "You're so different! You're good and kind and generous! America is selfish and evil and cruel!"

Feeling more sympathetic towards his little sister, Ivan shook his head, willing her to understand him as he looked at her. "You know as much as I do all the lies and propaganda that passed between both of us in the past," he reminded her gently. "Everyone has their good points and bad points, _syestra_."

Belarus's lower lip actually quivered as she stared up at him with large, puppy dog eyes. "But… but…why?" her voice was so small, it hurt his heart to hear the pathetic question.

Sighing, Ivan pulled his little sister into a hug, and luckily for him, she let go of her death grip on his arm and allowed him to pull her close to his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head, allowing her to cry. He hated himself for causing her so much pain when she loved him so much, but this was for the best, not only for her sake, but for his and Amelia's as well. Natalia needed to get over her fixation with him, and even though it was painful to see her big brother dating someone else, it would be good for her in the long run. Perhaps she would even find someone else to be happy with, maybe date…if Ivan approved of him, of course, and deemed him good enough to deserve his little sister... No, he wasn't being hypocritical in any way.

"Sometimes, things just change," he murmured into her hair. "Sometimes your feelings just change and you find that some of the things that annoyed you about someone were actually not so annoying, it was just you being annoyed that you noticed that other person, and you're annoyed because you actually really like them."

The girl sniffled in his chest, staining his shirt with her tears, before she pulled away a bit to look up at him pitifully. "H-how long h-have you liked her?"

Was he a terrible big brother for telling her all this? No, it would be worse to tell lies, and if he didn't tell her now and she found out about things later…well, she'd be ten times worse. At least she was actually _listening _to him at the moment. "Not until recently," he admitted. "A couple of months ago."

"In Mexico?" she asked sharply, thinking back to her encounter with the western nation there.

"N-no," Ivan shook his head quickly. "No, it was not until after Christmas that we decided to date."

The younger girl frowned in thought, before nodding, hugging her brother much like a small child would a teddy bear. "I do not like her, big brother," Natalia mumbled under her breath. "Please don't see her anymore, _brat_. She is bad for you."

Ah, that's why she was listening, crying. She was trying to play the guilt card on him, get him to feel sorry for her and force him to bend to her will. It was a deviously clever ploy, one that never ceased to get a reaction out of Ivan, but he could not fall for this. He had withstood her initial anger, and he had to withstand her pouting. So far, this was not as bad as Ivan would have thought, and he was very grateful for that, and he was working very hard to keep this conflict as…_calm _as possible.

"Natalia," he began carefully, "you know that I will always love you, because you're my little sister," he said quickly before she could take what he said in a romantic fashion. "But I also…care for America very much. I do not want to lose her."

"Did she threaten you?" the younger nations growled. "I can take care of he—"

"_Nyet_," he snapped, amazed and proud of himself for the ferocity in his own voice, inspiring authority over his sister. It didn't happen often, but when he could stand up to his sister, it always filled him with a small sense of pride. "_Nyet_, you are not to harm Amelia," he ordered sternly. "She's done nothing wrong. I'm the one that pushed her into dating me," he admitted again, watching her lip curl back in disgust, causing him to wince ever so slightly.

"Please," he sighed, stroking her hair, wanting to keep her calm. "Don't do anything to hurt America," he kept his voice gentle. "I…like her."

The two stayed silent for another long moment, Belarus gripping the front of Russia's shirt, before she sighed, pulling away to stare into her brother's eyes. "I don't know why you think you like her," she began seriously. "I don't know why you even _want _to be around her. She's not good for you, and she'll only end up ripping out your heart…probably literally."

"Nata—"

"But," she interrupted sharply, "I…I…" she took a deep breath, as though she trying to tame her temper. "I will not stop you and…_Amerika_ from…this…affair you're having," she muttered.

Ivan took a sharp inhale of breath, stiffening, shocked. "Wh-what?"

Pulling out of her brother's arms, Belarus stubbornly stared at the ground, an angry pout on her lips, but she took another deep breath. "I won't stop you from seeing America," she said again more evenly this time, her lips curling in disgust at the words she was forced to speak again.

"_S-spasibo syestra_!" Ivan breathed, unable to fully grasp the idea of his little sister actually giving her consent to allow him to date. It was much more than he could have ever hoped for. Not that he neededher consent, but knowing that he had it, that she wasn't going to try and kill Amelia or try and sabotage their dates or anything like that was certainly provided great relief.

"I am not happy about this, _vialiki brat_," Natalia growled dangerously. "I don't like this _at all_," she punctuated severely. "You're going to end up with a broken heart after all this. She's no good and will use you, but…but if this is what you want, then fine. If you can't see that this is not going to work, then you'll have to learn it on your own."

The younger nation stood, looking at her brother with both anger and sorrow that tainted her pretty features. "I don't like this," she said again, "but I'll always be here for you big brother, even if you don't want me to. And I'll be around to pick up all the pieces when she crushes your heart. Just like all the other times."

With that, Belarus turned and walked out of his office, leaving Russia stunned, kneeling on the floor next to the chair she had sat in only moments ago. His heart was hammering hard in his chest, leaving him sweating and strangely nervous, even as he was relieved. Standing up, he flopped back down in the chair his sister had only moments ago, before letting out a shuddered breath. Unable to control himself, he let out a nervous giggle, letting the tension leave his body.

Taking another deep breath, Ivan let his heart settle back into an easy rhythm, before he looked back at the magazine that was laying discarded on his desk. Although he really didn't want to, the more morbid part of his brain forced him to take it back up and look through it. He skimmed through the story, looking for the author's name, or the ones who had somehow taken all these pictures, but to his annoyance, there were no names listed. Not for the writer, nor for the one responsible for the pictures. That meant he couldn't go on a rampage and end this all once and for all.

But as he studied the pictures, the angles at which they were taken, as though that would help him identify the taker, a thought occurred to the Slav. There were pictures taken from both Moscow _and _Indiana, which meant that not only Russians knew of his and Amelia's relationship, but Americans as well…

Just then, his phone rang, flashing angrily at him. "_Govno_," he muttered, picking it up. "_Privyet_?" he answered tiredly.

If it had been possible, Russia was sure that flames would be coming out of the phone at him at that very moment. "What the _hell _are you doing to my sister?"

Wincing, holding the phone out and away from his ears, Ivan took a deep breath. "Good, and how are you, _Kanada_?" he drawled sarcastically.

"Don't start," the usually timid northern nation snarled. "What the hell are you doing to my sister? It's all over the tabloids!"

Ivan grimaced. "I suppose you've read the articles, _da_?"

"You knew about this?" Canada demanded. "You knew they were going to post all of these awful lies and you just let them? Amelia's going to freak out once she catches wind of this!"

"I just found out!" the larger nation snarled back, frustrated. "Of course I didn't just let this happen! I would have stopped all of these lies instantly if I'd known."

Canada snorted. What a cheeky little bastard the quieter twin turned out to be! "Well, you had better fix this. Now, before Amelia finds out and decides to do something rash."

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" Russia demanded. "I'm on the other side of the world! I'm going to have to deal with taking care of these lies on this side of the globe."

The younger nation sighed heavily into the phone, and Ivan could just imagine him running his hands through his hair, similarly to Amelia when she was frustrated or upset. "Well I don't know…This isn't going to end well. Amelia's going to die of a heart attack once she reads these tabloids and I'm sure Arthur's going to try something too. God," he muttered. "Of all the men my sister had to decide to be with, why did it have to be _you_?"

Scowling, Ivan wished he was speaking to the Canadian face to face so that he could simply lean over and start beating the boy with his pipe to teach him some respect. That would stop his lip! "Well I don't know," he growled, not liking to have to repeat himself, especially since it revealed his helplessness in the matter.

The two more northern nations fell silent, each one imagining just what the easily excitable American would do should she come to find out what was being printed about her and Russia. "Well, I suppose you're going to have to get ready to explain everything to your bosses…and the rest of the world for that matter," Canada muttered. "It won't be easy."

Ivan laughed bitterly, thinking back on his already emotionally traumatic day, and it was only eleven in the morning! Opening up his draw, pulling out a bottle of vodka he kept in there in case of emergencies, he took a gulp, whipping his mouth on the back of his hand. "Nothing in my life ever is," he answered, giggling in morbid hysteria, lest he fall apart and start crying.

Canada was silent for a moment before sighing again, Russia imagining the boy shaking his head. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it. But Russia," his voice suddenly turned icy, colder than the Slav ever heard it before. "If _anything _in those magazines about you seducing my sister is true, or how your relationship is abusive, don't you darethink for even a _minute _that I won't come over there and kick your ass." Ivan took another drink of vodka. "You hurt my baby sister, and I swear to God, I will hurt you so bad, you won't be able to walk straight for a year."

"Of course you will," Ivan rolled his eyes. "But I wish to also return the threat by saying, you ruin my relationship with your sister, I'll come over there and saw off your legs and feed them to the bears," he purred menacingly.

There was a slight pause. "And this is why I don't understand my sister's tastes in men," he snorted before hanging up promptly.

Leaning back heavily in his chair, Ivan glared at his phone while yet again taking another drink of vodka, wishing that he could just stop everyone from trying to ruin what he was working so hard to build with Amelia. At least he didn't have to worry much about Natalia, but he was still not going to put her on his "friends" list at the moment either. He knew his little sister, and one wrong step Amelia might make could very well trigger the Belarusian.

Just as he was about to go get something to eat, perhaps take a break from all of these siblings interfering, his phone buzzed once, signaling a text. He groaned as he flipped it open, biting his lips nervously.

_V. Putin: We need to talk. _

It buzzed again, causing the Russian to pale.

_V. Putin_: _NOW. _

Was there ever any rest for the weary?

* * *

**Author's Note: **Doesn't the title sound like it should be a club name? I could call it the S.A.L. Club and organize people to come together so that they could plot the demise of their sibling's relationships…You may all hear about me one day, when I famously get rich off this organization. XD

**Does President Vladimir Putin text? I have no idea, but he does in this story. I think he must since everyone in such positions is embracing technology. If the English Queen can tweet, Putin can text all right! DX

**Observations: **Time difference between Novosibirsk, Russia and London, England is six hours. The time difference between Novosibirsk, Russia and Ottawa, Canada is eleven hours.

**Russian: **Yoshkin kot- ёшкин кот- (an idiom: like) Oh shit*** Really this expression has a lot of different meanings depending on the context, or so I'm told, but it's apparently a form of curse without a real translation. _Spasibo_- Спасибо- Thank you. _Syestra_-сестра- sister. _Govno_-говно: shit.

**Belarusian**: вялікі брат (_vialiki brat_)- big brother (***_brat_ is pronounced like br-ah-t, like in the German _bratwurst_. It is **not **the English 'brat', as in a spoiled child)

'**Nother Note: **Anyone care to guess how those pictures got out? And what's up with Belarus? She scheming more dastardly plots or is she slowly warming up to the idea of big brother dating? _Will _Canada beat up Russia if he makes a mistake with America? Find out…eventually. ;)

**Please leave a review for this starving author. I've had a terrible last several weeks because my college tried to screw me over, but now I'm finally happy enough to write for this story~ ^^ Send me love, please! Thanks everyone!


	5. Chapter 5: Tip-Toeing Truth

**Chapter Five: Tip-Toeing Truth**

Things were bad. Things were reallybad. When Russia thought things were bad, they were usually _really _bad. Bad as in it would have to be post-apocalyptic bad. Bad as in Russia was pretty sure that soon, the world would be in very great danger of a nuclear holocaust when America finally got word of the articles floating around about them being a couple and what everyone believed they did to each other…Sort and simple, he was screwed. Royally.

But he tried to move on and get some much needed rest before he faced the inevitable and was subjected to more of his leader's anger and America's wrath. But in the early morning, around five or so, his phone started chiming, preluding his doom. Initially, Ivan tried to ignore it, absolutely hating technology at that moment, but was thankful that it had only been a text message he could check later…or he was until it chimed again.

Rolling over away from the phone, Ivan was too tired to think about just turning the stupid thing off, but was convinced that whoever was texting him this early in the morning could wait until it was a more appropriate hour. It chimed again.

And again.

…And again.

The Slav was nearly beside himself with rage. He was not a morning person, and anyone who tried to wake him was usually in worse shape than when they entered his room. When he was awake, most of the time, Ivan acknowledged that this hatred was irrational, but while waking, he felt it was completely justified in wishing his tormenter eternal damnation to face their own personal hell. Whoever was trying to rouse him that morning, the Russian believe, unkindly, that they should be cast into the center of hell, where they would freeze to death over and over again. That's where General Winter lived, after all.

But the texting stopped and was soon replaced by the phone actually ringing. Fed up with the events, Ivan snarled turning over, and grabbed his phone. He nearly hissed at the light from the stupid little device as it blinded him, but he opened the phone and growled, "What?" His damning purple aura came out to play.

"Knock knock!"

Blinking in surprise at the cheery voice assaulting his ears, clashing so terrible with his own sour snarl, Ivan found his anger deflating. "A-Amelia?" he stammered slightly, his face pale. Automatically his thoughts went to that horrid magazine he'd see the day before. No doubt she had seen it, or the American equivalents, which could very well be even _worse _if that was possible. He was so worried, he did not take into account the cheer in her tone.

"No!" the girl cried, the reception between them surprisingly crisp and clear. "You're supposed to say, 'who's there!'"

Ivan frowned in utter confusion. "What?"

"Say, 'Who's there'!" the American encouraged, sounding a bit frustrated and completely impatient.

Not knowing what else he should do, his head still fogged with sleep while his heart beat rapidly in his chest, the Russian relented, albeit perplexed. "Who is there?" he repeated warily.

"I am! So let me in!"

Once more, Ivan felt his stomach drop and he, for a brief moment, wondered if his heart had fallen into it again. "W-what?" Amelia was here? _Here_? As in, she was in Russia? As in, she was in Novosibirsk? As in, she was at his door step? America could _not _be here! He wasn't ready for her yet, and not just because he wasn't properly dressed either.

"Get your commie ass down here, and let me in!" the girl demanded, snapping Ivan from his panicked musings.

Shit. This was bad. This was really, really bad. If Amelia was here, that meant he would receive her full ire, not just threats over the phone or scathing e-mails. Oh no, it seemed life was against him, and for whatever reason, the blonde bane of his existence had come in person without warning. There was just no telling what the girl had seen in the media, what she'd heard.

Throwing off his covers as fast as he could, Ivan stumbled and tripped to his bedroom door, phone still in hand. His steps must have been quite heavy, as Amelia's voice fluttered in and out, asking what all the noise was about. The Russian didn't really hear her though. Instead, he kept on his panicked, hasty journey to the front door.

Once there, he ripped it open without a second thought, startling America on the other side. Upon seeing her face, Ivan found that all he could do was stare at her, those gorgeous eyes that he adored, so blue and clear, stopped him sort. There was no anger in them, no frustration, no fear, no…nothing. Just surprise, which quickly melted as she pushed past him to enter his house without so much as an invitation.

"Brrr!" she shivered once inside, rubbing her arms, to keep her warm. "It's _freezing _out there!"

Ivan looked out at the spring day, still waking up from its own slumber, back over to the girl that had invaded not only his peace, but his home as well. The way she was acting one might have thought that it was the winter, but the Russian was quite sure that his girlfriend would never come to Siberia during that season. Still, seeing her here as she was only served to increase his confusion all the way around.

After closing the door, the big man looked over at the blonde. "_Kalinka_," he began carefully, using her pet name in case she really was mad and was just hiding it under that queer charm of hers. "What are you doing in Novosibirsk?" he asked, aware of her moods.

Throwing him an utterly brilliant smile, Amelia shrugged, before taking off her jacket and looking around the small, private home of her old rival-turned-boyfriend. "I'm on my way to China to check on the equipment I sent him for the factories and to negotiate some deals."

The big man scowled. "Wouldn't it have been faster to go from California and fly west instead of looping around Europe?"

"Of course it would!" the girl agreed, making herself at home, walking around in his rarely used house curiously. "But then I wouldn't have found an excuse to come visit you~" She winked playfully, stirring a rested longing in the Russian's bones. Though he was brought out of the warmth and arousal by a simple thought, the one that had kept him pacing and unable to sleep well: Amelia had yet to discover the magazines.

Glancing warily over at the blonde, Ivan knew he had to think fast to protect himself. Perhaps he should just tell her, tell her all that had happened yesterday and warn her about what she might experience when she goes farther east to see China. But then there was just enough cowardice in him to have him hold his tongue. This whole pushing their relationship further, faster—while there was really nothing wrong with what they were doing!— was his idea, despite how Amelia fought against it. If things blew up in their faces, it would ultimately _his _fault, or that's how she would see it. There would be no appeasing her once she found out, her fury was assured, and quite honestly, it scared the shit out of Ivan. America was a demon in war, what would she be like in personal revenge?

Realizing she was expecting a response, Ivan nodded stupidly. "Th-that's nice. How…thoughtful." He winced.

Amelia beamed. "I am, aren't I? I know I can only spend about an hour or so here before I gotta leave again, but that's better than no time at all, right?" she shrugged with a slight blush.

The sentiment touched the older nation, it really did. Despite being a narcissistic idiot half the time, Amelia really was sweet. She really was trying to think of others, and Ivan found that her efforts to include him daily in her life, whether it was just a text or phone call, or making efforts to come see him across the world, showed her true character. That character that was often lost behind the glamour and power, the one that was actually sweet and endearing and very caring. All the panic he had felt a moment before seemed to melt away at that moment, and it left the Slav feeling warm.

Reflecting that warmth with a tender smile, Ivan walked towards the girl that was quickly becoming more and more precious to him as time went on, and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. There was only a split second where she was tense, before she melted into the embrace and hugged him back, though not quite as tightly as he hugged her. Her timid nature in romantics no longer distressed him quite as badly, as he realized more and more how much she was trying to please him, to do the things he wanted. This was a big step for her, but she was doing all this for _him_.

Without a second thought, without thinking about those ghastly magazines, Russia planted a kiss on top of the girl's golden hair, as though bestowing a blessing in his own reverence. "_Ti takaya prelestnaya_," he chuckled at her sudden shyness.

The blonde wiggled out of her boyfriend's arms a bit to stare up at him. "Am not," she pouted, only disproving her claim.

To answer her, he let his giggles tell her otherwise.

America frowned at this, before she took on a thoughtful expression. "Can I ask you a question?"

Ivan smiled down at her, loving that she hadn't pulled completely away from him. She warded off the morning chill. "With your inclinations towards stupidity, I encourage it," he teased, earning a dark glare.

But surprisingly, she didn't pull away. Instead, she stared up at him with an almost bored expression, pouting her lips out just a bit. "Any reason why you're not wearing a shirt?"

It was then that the Slav remembered just what had happened not five minutes ago, how he had been woken from his slumber by his annoying girlfriend. He had been so worried about her finding out about the magazines and then with letting her in, he'd forgotten to dress himself properly.

But instead of letting go to put on a shirt, as no doubt Amelia wanted, Ivan squeezed her closer to him, crushing her against him until they were almost smashed into one person with no division between them. Chuckling darkly, he leaned forward, and whispered, "Would you like to see more?"

He didn't need to see her face in order to know she was blushing. He could feel it. It was almost as though someone had turned on a hot lamp against his chest. But he did not let go, even as she struggled against him, scolding him, though it was muffed. It was only until she unfairly pinched him that he at last let go.

"Ow!" he stepped back, frowning. "What was that for?"

The blonde was still flushed as she crossed her arms. "You know perfectly well what that was for."

There was already an angry red mark on his side, and the Russian rubbed at it ruefully. "That wasn't so nice."

"Neither was crushing me to death," America rolled her eyes.

Even though he knew he'd get in trouble, the large nation just couldn't stop himself from being a pest. "You liked it," he smirked playfully. "You liked it and you know it."

It was really amazing how much self-control Amelia seemed to have gained since dating him, because in the past, the blonde might have punched him so hard that not only would he be missing teeth, he'd quite literally probably have been sent through the wall. Instead, she pouted as she crossed her arms moodily, sending him a dirty scowl. A great improvement indeed. He could live with her scowls, he could not live with her constantly wanting to beat him senseless. As fun as that was, it did get kind of old if done too often.

Knowing that he had perhaps pushed his luck as far as he could for the time being, Ivan chuckled before he spread his arm to the girl. "Come sit down. I will go change."

The blonde eyed him suspiciously, but did as she was told. "You better be changing _into _clothes and not _out _of them."

The Russian laughed, having not considered that, and wished that he had…and Amelia hadn't. Oh, he knew nothing would happen if he were to do so, but it would have been amusing to see her freak out. The girl needed to loosen up when it came to nudity and the like. Americans were all wild about sex on television and movies, but when it came to real life, it was as though they were squeamish to even think about the possibility of nakedness or sex. Such an odd culture.

Shaking his head in response to his amusement, Ivan went back up the stairs and quickly changed into black slack, and a dress shirt which he promptly put a nice, dark blue sweater over before adjusting his scarf and pulling on his nicer shoes. He looked at himself in the mirror and noticed he was wearing a sincere sort of smile. For once, he thought he looked good. For once when he looked in the mirror, he didn't get the sense of staring at a lonely stranger. There was no depression in his eyes, no emptiness. Strange that America should help him improve thus.

The smell of fire cracking in the fireplace assaulted Russia's nose as he walked back down the stairs. As he peeked around the corner, he found Amelia leaning forward, dropping a little log on, before straightening up, smiling. She looked so pretty, Ivan thought, the whole setting completely domestic. His house here was less business-like, being smaller and cozy, and seeing his _Kalinka _here like this, well, it made his heart warm. Such a beautiful girl, it really was dangerous how much he liked her.

After dusting off her hands, the blonde turned around and jumped ever so slightly at the sight of her boyfriend. "Oh! Ivan. When did you come back down?" she asked, a big smile already naturally coming to her lips. He loved that about her.

"Just a moment ago," he shrugged before going to sit on the couch. Amelia followed suit. "Glad you were able to make yourself at home."

The girl had the decency to blush. "Sorry," she laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. "It was a little drafty in here and I just thought a fire was a good idea."

"No, no, you misunderstand," Ivan held up his hands. "I was being serious. I am glad you were making yourself at home." Because if the Russian were to have his way, then he and Amelia would be sharing their living spaces much more intimately soon, and he wanted the girl to be comfortable in his home. He wanted her to like it so badly, it almost hurt.

"Oh," the girl chirped, beaming. "Well, good! Thanks! I just love the smell of a good fire, don't you?" she started up her rambling. "It reminds me a lot of the times me and Mattie would go camping."

"'Would go'?" Ivan questioned.

"Yeah," the smiled on the blonde's lips lessened just a bit. "We haven't been for a long time. Things have been…a lot busier for both of us nowadays. Plus his people always freak a little bit when I come over and don't like me out by myself in the woods with fire for some reason."

Russia rolled his eyes. He could understand the Canadians reasoning, but he still found himself a bit sad on her behalf. He had never noticed how close America and her brother were until the competition had started. They loved one another like a brother and sister should, and they always tried to be there for one another, even if they had strongly different points of view politically. But they still made time to be brother and sister. Ivan thought that was nice. Very nice. He was actually jealous that he could not have that with his own sisters anymore.

"So," Amelia started back up. "What have you got going on today?"

"Hmm?" the Russian blinked out of his musings.

"I _said_, 'what are you doing today?' I mean, I gotta leave for China soon, but what have you got planned? Anything interesting?"

And that's when reality came slamming back into Russia so hard, he thought his head had been smashed in. "O-oh, right. China. Y-you're going there in an hour you said?"

"Yeah," the blonde frowned slightly. "You okay there, Big Guy? You're looking a little…green."

"Fine, fine," he waved her off, his mind racing through how he was going to handle this.

America could _not _go to China. Apparently she must have left for Russia before the leak of their relationship had gotten out. It was apparent to the Russian that the Americans had probably tried to contain the information as long as they could if Amelia hadn't seen it while at the airport, but since Canada had found out…well, he wondered how bad it was in the States as well as her neighboring countries. And if Amelia went to China and found out, it would be ten times worse! China wasn't always the most tactful when he freaked out about something, and the news of Russia's alleged abuse of his biggest trading partner would not settle well for the Asian nation. And since China would no doubt bring it up, then America would freak out, and if she did that, then there was no way Ivan could save himself. She would demand to know why he hadn't told her, because no doubt she would accuse him of knowing. And because he had seen her in person, he could not really use the excuse of, "I didn't know how to tell you" since she was there in person, it was his duty to tell…

He was doomed. There was no other way of describing it. If Amelia didn't kill him for dragging her into this scandal, the topic she had been so proud of escaping since her existence, then no doubt Ivan would want to kill himself for hurting her. She would no doubt be hurt by the roamers, horrified by the gossip of abuse. If only he could just cover it all up!

"You sure?" he barely heard Amelia ask as she touched his arm, leaning forward in concern. "You're lookin' _really _green. Did you eat something bad?"

"_Nyet_," the Russian shook his head. "No, I…I was just thinking. I…I'm going to come to China with you."

As the American beamed, Russia realized that perhaps his mind was finally getting dull. What a terrible idea, and there was no way he could back out now, considering how happy Amelia looked. He would never be able to justify this with Putin, not after the chewing out he'd gotten from the president yesterday, but really, it was the only way Ivan could monitor the interactions in China. Perhaps he could hide this a little bit longer? Spare Amelia the heartache?

"Really?" the girl asked, eyes positively aglow.

She looked so lovely then, so full of hope that Ivan found himself nodding. "_Da_, of course," he gave a smile he hoped didn't look like a grimace. "I remember I have some business to take care of with him too."

"All right!" the blonde exclaimed jumping in her seat. "This is gunna be so awesome! Long plane rides are just so boring when you're by yourself or with your boss, but if you're there, then it'll be fifty billions time better!"

Ivan was amazed he hadn't gotten sick yet. "Oh…yay!" His smile did turn into a wince.

So, after making some coffee for the two of them, Ivan let Amelia chatter away about this and that, nothing of particular interest coming from the girl's mouth, but as long as she talked, then that meant Ivan didn't have to, and he couldn't slip up and tell her about those articles. Eventually, the Russian showed her to his car, and he made sure to put in a CD so that the radio wouldn't be on and somehow America could find out about the wild roamers. As they drove and the blonde kept up her chattering, the Russian tried desperately to think of a way that their being together in the airport wouldn't spark too much attention, or how he was going to keep Amelia from somehow seeing something.

He could always pull rank, he thought to himself. He could use all the special security ways, and justify it because technically Amelia was a visiting diplomat. That would take care of a lot of people, and the workers he could intimidate into silence. He could also order that there be no TVs on while they waited and he could keep away the newer magazines. Yes, perhaps he could do this. On the flight, they would be isolated from everyone else if he desired to pull such special treatment, perhaps he could even get them on their own jet? Putin would be furious with him for wasting the resources and all, but dammit, Ivan wasn't about to create more roamers, nor was he willing for Amelia to find out just yet.

So, once the airport came into view, America was bouncing in her seat she was so happy, still prattling away about some story where France had gotten his head stuck in the stair rails or something. With her still distracted, Ivan drove to the back, to the special diplomats' gate, and stopped when he had to show his I.D. The guards nodded solemnly to their nation before turning to look at the girl next to him.

Ivan held out his hand and Amelia obediently handed over her special I.D. "Hi there!" she chirped and smiled at the guard, who looked a bit surprised at the lively girl, but didn't respond other than nodding to her as well. Quickly, he scanned over the foreigner's pass before waving Ivan through the gates. "Have a good morning!" she called as they pulled through.

As they exited the vehicle, he was quick to guide his girlfriend through the passages and to the airport through the special tunnels. The blonde, at first, kept smiling, singing something about a "secret tunnel" and skipped along, her bag in hand. It might have embarrassed Ivan, how childish she was being, but at the moment, he wasn't really thinking about that. He was worried about what would happen. Amelia just _couldn't _find out about those damn roamers!

But as they entered into the private waiting room, after Russia quickly gave instructions to the attendants and other officials there about their destination, he noticed that Amelia was looking bored. "You know," she said as she inspected the pristine room, "we could have just flown with the humans like I'd planned. There's no need for you to waste the special treatment."

"_Nyet,_ it's no problem," Ivan reassured quickly. "I…I actually prefer private flights. A lot less screaming infants."

America smiled. "Well…okay, if you're sure."

The girl sat down and Ivan turned away to speak again privately with the flight attendant. He didn't notice Amelia pick up the remote. The girl turned on the television and the sound of a news reporter filled the room. "…there is still no word on the man's whereabouts. In other news," the report went on, a picture of Russia flashing before the screen, not looking too happy, "the speculated report on our nation's current involvement with the Un—"

Faster than a man with his bulk should have been able to, the Russian flew forward and turned off the television, his hands shaking just a bit.

"Hey!" Amelia cried. "I was watching that!"

"Well, now you're not," Ivan smiled, sitting down next to her. At the girl's annoyed expression, the larger nation decided to distract her by putting his arm around her. That affectively shut her up. "Besides," he went on, "I want to be selfish and have all of your attention."

The blonde blushed, before snorting. "Y-yeah, whatever. So…if you want my attention, you better be at least entertaining."

"Of course!" Ivan nodded. "I was just wondering…well, perhaps we should get together again very soon? Whatever you want to go!"

It took only a blink before the blonde was one again beaming at her boyfriend, nearly bouncing in her seat, taken with the idea. "Okay!" she exclaimed. "I wonder what we should do? I know! We could go to the Bahamas or something. I haven't talked to her in a while, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if we went down there. _Or_ we could go to—"

"Let us not get too far ahead of ourselves," Ivan interjected quickly, terrified not only of their paparazzi, but of other foreign press as well. "Perhaps somewhere in the mountains at one of our places? Nice, quiet, and away?"

Amelia perked up significantly, but before she could reply, they were called to the private jet that was now leaving for Beijing, China. The nearly four hour flight seemed to take forever, not fast enough for Ivan, as he sat next to Amelia, who babbled on the whole time, mostly about planning their mountain retreat, but other subjects slipped in there too. When she mentioned her brother, "Mattie", and how he had acted weird before she left, it had the Russian nearly in a panic. Of course, the other North American hadn't told his sister, and opted instead to chew _him _out, and it still didn't settle well with the large nation. It wasn't that he was afraid of Canada or anything, but it was the fact that Amelia would get caught in the middle if ever a fight broke out between the two men, and quite frankly, Russian knew very well that America, in the end, would chose Canada's side in any fight. Family loyalties, allied promises and all…

When they landed, they were treated with special care, though the security was obviously confused as to why Russia and America were together. They would send these suspicious looks towards the nations, but Russia would stop it with a terrifying smile. It stopped the security, but Ivan was wondering if he still had the power to frighten the Chinese officials as well. He hoped so, for Amelia's sake.

The large nation made quick work of pushing the blonde ahead of him, making sure she didn't stop, at a near sprint. Of course Amelia was confused, repeating phrases such as, "Where's the fire, Big Guy?" but Ivan didn't slow. His own people had to nearly run to keep up. He thought he'd seen a magazine with his and Amelia picture on it, a scandalous piece he was sure, and redoubled his efforts to keep her moving.

Once they grabbed their bags, they were greeted by an official sent to escort America to the company she would be inspecting with China. The man was completely surprised to see that Russia had tagged along with the Superpower, but to his credit, schooled his features considerably well. Amelia, of course, beamed at the man, asking him all manner of polite questions, before she seemed to remember that Ivan wasn't supposed to be there.

"Oh! Yeah," she looked a bit guilty, but the official pressed them forward, to the limo. "I made a quick pit stop in Russia, and, well, he had some business to discuss with China as well, so we thought we'd carpool." She laughed at her own joke.

Neither Ivan, nor the Chinese official quite understood.

When they got to the limo, the official smiled politely at the nations, before turning to the Russians that had been silently trailing behind. "I am afraid that there is not enough room for everyone," he looked apologetic. "I can escort your nation, but I could call another vehicle to come and pick you up?"

"That won't be necessary," a Russian official shook his head slightly. "We have already contacted someone from the embassy. They will be here shortly."

The Chinese official nodded before gesturing for the two nations to enter the limo. "Bye! Thanks!" America chirped at the Eastern Europeans, who merely stared at her and their own nation strangely. As ordered, they had said nothing about the articles as Russia had instructed, but it was clear that they were curious, even a bit angry with the American, as some of the lies about her manipulation had settled over them. Ivan hoped they would come to see how ridiculous it all was.

The limo was hardly a silent affair, but Ivan didn't have to worry as Amelia dominated the conversation yet again. The official asked her polite, generic question, but of course the American went on and on about everything known to man, and then some. For the most part, Russia was glad of this, as the topic of their relationship remained out of the way, yet he was getting tired of her ramblings about how "American ideal just wasn't the same…" But Ivan remained silent, and the official remained polite as he nodded and allowed the American to speak.

At last, after about an hour drive through the thick traffic, the nations finally found themselves outside of the large American company Amelia was supposed to oversee and check the equipment for. Ivan followed behind the blonde warily, sending deadly glares at anyone that gawked too much. Thankfully, as they entered, there didn't seem to be any of those horrid magazines lying about, and all the TVs were stationed on the news, which was, thankfully, for once talking about news worthy subjects.

As they made their way towards the back, where the machines were, Russia spied China, talking to several of his people, before he turned to greet America who he _no _doubt, heard coming a mile away. There was a light smile on his face as he prepared himself for an interaction with Amelia, but the moment his dark eyes caught sight of Russia, he seemed to freeze, a horribly panicked expression coming over him before it was shoved down and his face was blank. Ivan winced, peeking down at his girlfriend only to discover that she must not have seen it.

"Hi, China!" Amelia called, waving. "What's up, dude? How've you been?" she held out her hand.

China responded in turn, shaking the taller nation's hand before bowing. "Well, America." He gave a slight smile again before turning and eyeing Russia. "And…Russia? I was not expecting you. Hello," he bowed to the largest nation.

"_Privyet, _China," Ivan smiled brightly, threateningly. "I had a few things I wished to discuss with you." A silent threat hung in the air over the two easterners, but thankfully, America didn't catch on.

"All right!" the girl cheered. "So, let's get this inspection done and out of the way, huh? Then we can leave and grab a bite to eat. I'm starving!"

The Asian nation smiled politely, before nodding. "_Shì,_ that would be acceptable. America, if you would follow me?" China asked, and threw Ivan a mean glare, one that surprised the bigger nation. "You will have to wait here,_Èluósī_."

"Oh! Right!" America nodded. "Sorry, Big Guy, this is legit business. No spying, 'kay?"

Ivan plastered on his most innocent expression, and even though China wasn't buying it, their past experiences with each other not changing much, Amelia was more willing to believe it. "_Da_, of course! I will remain right here," he lied.

Amelia didn't seem to notice the tension between the other two nations and happily nodded before taking out an electronic notepad to take notes on her inspection. Russia stood smiling as they walked away to get started on their inspection, but the moment they had turned the corner, Ivan took off, trying to find a hiding spot. China knew something was up, but the Russian didn't know what conclusions the Asian had made. News of his and America's relationship had leaked out here too, but it was unclear to the big nation who China felt more sympathy for…though at the moment, it seemed to be America. He wanted to listen in not to spy as a nation, but to make sure Amelia didn't find out…and maybe to spy a little as a nation…maybe…

He found a place soon enough, and as he settled down, he could hear America's pen swiping across her notepad quickly as she inspected the equipment. China stood next to her, hands clasped behind his back as he watched her work. "This machine's been turned off. How did that happen?" she asked, all business now.

"A few workers were not being careful and bumped into it," China supplied calmly, his dark eyes watching the blonde's move as she began retyping in the passcodes and starting the machine back up secretly before taking a few notes afterwards.

"Try and tell them to be more careful," she muttered. "You know it looks bad."

China nodded, before his features twisted into a thoughtful expression. "You know, America…we may not have always been the…best of friends," America stopped to stare down at the other nation in confusion. "—but I want you to know that when I heard the rumors, I didn't believe them for an instant." Behind machinery, Ivan began to sweat.

"Rumors?" Amelia asked carefully.

"Yes," the old nation nodded. "Though I must confess I was surprised that you brought Russia here. Very…bold of you. It is perhaps good of you to have him travel with you. To discredit these silly rumors."

Ivan peeked out just enough to see Amelia's face turn completely red. "O-oh," she muttered. "Guess you heard…D-does everyone know?"

"I do not know," China frowned at the blonde's behavior. "I would assume so with all the publicity it's been getting."

The America laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. "W-well thanks, China, but…uh…it's true, actually."

Even with the humming of the machinery, the whole room seemed to have fallen silent, and the horror that spread across the Chinese nation's face reflected the upmost dismay and disgust. "I-it's true-_aru_?" China hissed, the speech tic he'd been trying so hard to cover finally slipping out.

Again, Amelia laughed anxiously. "Y-yeah…ain't that something?"

The old nation grabbed America's upper arm, before looking at her face carefully, scrutinizing, even as the American was surprised. "I…I cannot believe it-_aru_. What are you going to do about it?"

Russia didn't know if he should be amused, annoyed, terrified, or just plain sick. It was apparent that Amelia was horribly confused. She had no idea of the horrors the magazines were saying about both of them, and it was only too clear that China was concerned at the moment about those blasted gossip pieces. They were talking about the same thing, yet so different it was no wonder confusion had settled in over them.

After a moment of gathering her wit again, Amelia stepped away from the other nation before shrugging, her face still red. "I-I don't know. I mean, I—we—were just going to see how this all played out."

Ivan could have fainted he was so horrified at the proceedings. From China's furious expression to America's embarrassed one, Russia wasn't sure what was worse. They had no idea what the other was really talking about.

"I see-_aru_," the Asian mumbled quietly. "America-_aru_, again I say that we have not always been the best of friends, but I…I know what it is like to be…subject to his…persuasions. If you ever need any help, please, _please _let me know," his eyes shown with sincerity. "Nationhood aside, I will help you-_aru_."

The blonde blushed once more, before laughing. "G-geeze, China! It's like you think I'm dating him against my will or something! Haha!"

When China's eyes widened in shock, that's when Russia knew he couldn't let this go on. "Ah, _Kalinka_," he stepped around the corner, smiling, ignoring the smaller man's still stunned expression. "Are you almost finished with this inspection? It's getting late and I would like lunch very soon."

"Crap, dude!" she cried, turning to see her boyfriend. "I thought we told you to stay put?"

The Asian nation's eyes narrowed, but Russia ignored it. "Like I said, I am hungry. Can you not take a break now?"

America looked torn between wanting to get the job finished and getting away from China for a moment, to allow the embarrassment to fade just a bit. "Well…yeah, okay. I am pretty hungry. That okay with you, China?"

The smaller man nodded slowly. "That should be fine-_aru_."

"Awesome!" Amelia beamed. "Okay, let's go get some awesome food! Let's go, Big Guy!" she grabbed Russia's hand and started tugging him to the door.

He allowed her to do so, and soon the three nations were in the limo on their way to a restaurant China had picked. Amelia was chattering on about something ridiculous with the driver while Russia and China sat next to each other awkwardly, each eying the other distrustfully.

The moment America's attention was completely captured by something, China leaned towards the Russian and whispered quietly, "_Kalinka_?" Ivan winced. "You and I have a lotto discussion later on-_aru_."

"Hey, Big Guy!" Amelia turned around, blue eyes shining. "When we go on our vacation, do you think we can parachute off buildings too? Wouldn't that be _great_?!"

"A _lot _to discuss-_aru_."

Ivan winced.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Back from the dead! Sorry for the long wait, I know a lot of you were angry with me, but seriously, since coming back to school, I've had a LONG string of horrible things happen to me and to my family and friends, so postponing fanfiction was a necessity. That's all I'm going to say, except if I don't update right away, please don't send me angry reviews. Seriously guys, I've had a pretty terrible last couple of months. Reading anonymous reviews yelling at me didn't help. Thanks everyone else for being patient with me!

**Russian: **_Ti takaya prelestnaya- _Ты такая прелестная- You are so cute/charming.

Chinese: _Shì-_是- Yes. _Èluósī- _俄罗斯- Russia. (** If my Chinese is wrong, PLEASE tell me!)

**Random Fact: **While I left the company up to the imagination, I do have a friend whose uncle works on American machinery in China, and pretty much the Chinese are not allowed to fix any machines that Americans have given them. If something breaks or the machines are moved even an _inch_, they shut down and Americans are sent over to China to fix and reset the machinery. Not making this up. Just thought I'd share this random fact.

'**Nother Note:**. Hope this will suffice until next time. Please leave a review on your way out. It really would make me smile. :) Thanks!


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